


Waker of the Winds

by Fire_Slime, Water_Slime (Fire_Slime)



Series: Sylvanus [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time, The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker
Genre: (mostly) Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Don't copy to another site, Dreams vs. Reality, F/M, Gen, Mindscrew, Prophetic Dreams, Reincarnation, Second Chances, history of a world, identity crisis, quasi-novelisation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2020-11-01 11:34:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 37,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20814461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Slime/pseuds/Fire_Slime, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Slime/pseuds/Water_Slime
Summary: The first part of four.  This first part is a quasi-novelisation ofThe Wind Waker, with plenty of references toOcarina of Timethrown in.  Also mentionsMajora's Mask.  It introduces the recurring theme of how do you know what's real?  This one has plenty of denial of identity, too.Out of all my fanfiction main characters, Link Sylvanus is the smartest.  Make of that what you will.Ignore the Archive's default chapter headers.  This part has an interlude and a prologue.  The countstarts offwrong.





	1. Prologue: Link's Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> Since this has decided to be my magnum opus…. I will dedicate it to Apollo, because I said that I would. Help me to do this well, please….
> 
> **note:** I have checked this over for consistency and everything else at least three times that actually saved. That's going to have to be good enough. I could probably post once or twice a month, until the end of this part. But...I can't start posting Part II until I've written Part II, and I can't write Part III until I've found my notes. Probably. Someone else must have transcribed the cutscene scripts for Ocarina of Time, right?
> 
> We'll see how things go.
> 
> (The writing in this is from 2014, but the idea is much older. Originally posted on FF.net, under this same name.)

**Prologue: Link's Awakening**

Link awoke with great reluctance from exciting dreams about combat against hulking monsters, eased into wakefulness by a childish girl's voice. Immediately visible was a wooden railing, and beyond it, through the gap in the railing, the rich blue of the sea. _Now_ where was he, and how had he gotten here, and when had he fallen asleep? Had the monster caught him a blow while he was listening to Saria? Everything was muddled, and forming coherent thoughts was _hard_….

"Big Brother!" cried the girl again. Link sat up, and turned towards the owner of the voice. Strange. He didn't remember Saria looking like that. It was a little girl, with two blonde pigtails, in her preteens, and wearing a blue dress with flowers on it. Aryll….

"Wake up, Big Brother! Don't you remember what day it is today?"

Well, actually, no. At this point, he had no idea. Sometime in the spring, he thought, or maybe summer. It was in how he could almost _feel_ the world humming with growth.

"Poor Big Brother," Aryll said (how had he confused her with a figment from a dream? Sure, his dreams were vivid, but confusing reality and dreams was a Bad Sign. It was probably just the abrupt awakening). "You're still half-asleep, aren't you? Big Brother, it's your birthday!"

_What_! How had he forgotten _that_? Immediately, he shot to his feet, suddenly _very much_ awake. He ignored Aryll's giggling at his response, brushing dirt off his clothes and trying to see the sun, high overhead by now, and blocked by the sloped wooden roof of the lookout tower.

Now, he remembered climbing up here, as he sometimes did on clear nights when the stars were unobscured from clouds, and restlessness would not let him sleep. It had been precisely this fact—that today was his birthday—that had made sleep such an elusive commodity for him. Today, Outset Island's eyes would be on the past, and on him. Today, he became an adult—at seventeen years of age, he was now of the same age as the legendary Hero of Time when he had first appeared.

To celebrate, there would be a small celebratory dinner (so only because of how few inhabitants lived on Outset), and the tale of the legendary hero would be told, and much speculation would be made on whether or not any of the story were true, and what _had_ become of the legendary kingdom. It mattered not that he had memorised the entirety of the story—he drank it in, nevertheless. Old man Sturgeon had a head for details, and a strong narrative voice.

He captured the poignancy and the despair of those long ago people, the rush of hope at the Hero's arrival, and the crushing loss of the kingdom itself. Link hoped that being an adult did not make him too old for listening—certainly, he thought he'd caught Mesa lurking nearby during the annual invocation to the Hero, listening to every word of the Hero's story, and Link was too young to even remember when Mesa had become an adult.

"Grandma wanted to speak to you about something," Aryll said, noticing his return to full wakefulness, and fearing lest he become distracted by his thoughts—he seemed to be tending in that direction! Link, for his part, was reminded of his least favourite part of the celebration of coming of age: the requirement that the new adult wear the clothes of the Hero of Time for an entire day. It was bad enough that they were old-fashioned and outmoded—but, from what he could tell from reason and description, they were hot as summer sun, too. The lost kingdom had not been located in a hot and humid island, clearly—the Hero's clothes included a long-sleeved green undershirt, and brown trousers, and _then_ another layer on top of that.

Well, Grandma had told him to come, but maybe it wouldn't hurt—surely she would understand?—if he enjoyed his last few moments of free, non-sweltering, movement. Perhaps if he spoke to Sturgeon (she was always happy to see him learning), she would be inclined to be a bit lenient? Then, he came back to the startling discovery that he was now _an adult_, and with this memory, his decision of concern became a sign of deference to his elders, and love of family.

_And I shan't keep her waiting for very long_, he reminded himself, and, nodding acknowledgement of Aryll's words, he waved a brief goodbye to his sister, and climbed down the tall ladder back to the pier. He did like the high vantage that the lookout post provided, where he could see as far as it was possible to see, out over the endless expanse of the restless ocean. He did not think, _someday, I shall see every inch of those seas_. Instead, the knowledge of the sea's vastness brought everything into perspective, reminding him that the world was vast, and his troubles were comparatively small.

He ran back to the mainland via the pier, casting a curious glance at the trail up to the summit, and up to the bridge that connected the two island's halves, but he knew that the overgrowth made the path impassable. Sturgeon had told him that the important thing on the other summit (the Western Island, as they sometimes called it) was the long since blocked up Fairy Fountain, where the Hero of Time had once come to be cured of his exhaustion. But Sturgeon maintained that the fountain had closed long ago—healing fairies had not been seen since Sturgeon's youth. It was a pity, as Link was curious as to what a healing fairy—or any fairy at all, really—looked like.

He cast a backward glance at the steep incline, turned to wave to Mesa as he passed by the man's overgrown front lawn, and absent-mindedly stared up at the upper bridge over the channel, as he crossed to the Western Island via the lower bridge. Rose's elder son, Joel, was staring out in the same direction on one of the protruding black rocks that stuck up out of the channel.

He gave a low, murmured warning about his younger brother, Zill, who was intent on following Link around on his birthday, to get a better idea of what the experience would be like. Zill was only six years old, and Joel was barely any older, and they both rather idol-worshipped Link. If he were to have a moment's peace, he would do well to heed Joel's warning. He acknowledged said warning with a grateful smile, and continued across the bridge, where he saw Abe in Sturgeon and Orca's front yard, staring intently at a wild black pig.

_Hello? Can you hear me, Link_? he heard, although it was not hearing, per se—neither pig nor Abe so much as twitched. Nevertheless, Link was certain that he heard Sturgeon's voice. He looked up at the upper landing of the brothers' two-storey house, and there was Sturgeon, waving a knobby staff and looking quite excited.

_Yes, that's it! Look at me, and focus on talking from a distance. It's called telepathy. You can hear me, right?_

Link focused, giving the task his attention. He liked to think he was a quick learner. _Hello_?

_Yes, yes, I think you've got it!_ Sturgeon's beard bobbing back and forth with his movements, and tangling in that crooked staff were almost comical to see, but Link respected the old man, and was not inclined to laugh at his gleeful dance. He and Orca had both done well by Link and Aryll after their parents had died in a storm at sea while fishing. Now, when Sturgeon beckoned Link over, Link did not hesitate to come.

"What we were just doing—it seems you have a knack for it, eh?" Sturgeon said conspiratorially. "I thought you might. My books tell me that it was a trait certain of those with long ears—like yours and your sister's—have as a natural gift—not that you don't need to practice! Very useful for when you need to sneak about with someone unnoticed, I wager—not that I'd know anything about that."

The old man sounded strangely uncomfortable at the end of his speech, but before Link could think too hard about it, he continued. "Well done, I say. And happy birthday to you, Link. Be a good boy—er, man—and don't keep your kind grandmother waiting. I'll still be here to practice with when you get back."

_I'm sure she'd understand if I spent only a little more time to myself, surely?_

It was an effort communicating with mind alone.

"Don't make your grandmother worry about you," said Sturgeon, in an oddly ominous voice. Whatever threat he might have continued against Link, however, was dislodged from his mind by the sound of a thud of something against wood, and the shaking of his house. Orca, Link thought, practicing combat. Sturgeon shook his staff as if the man were in front of him, and began to yell at his younger brother. Link took the opportunity to pull open the door to Orca's quarters of the house, and to enter.

Orca greeted him with a solemn look, calm as if Sturgeon's voice—still audible if muffled by the wood of the structure—were not at all audible even to the smaller, more rounded ears possessed by Orca. "Ah, Link, happy birthday to you. I see you have not yet donned the clothes of the Hero.

"Have you come to train with the sword? I admit I find it reassuring that one, at least, among us still thinks it valuable to know how to defend himself and others, and it is especially important in view of the lesson meant to be exemplified by the celebrations we observe on our birthdays. But, nowadays, it seems that we have grown complacent, and forgotten that the Hero of Time did not fully defeat the evil. On this day, a man ought to be training to protect himself and others, but in these peaceful times, they think that I am a foolish old man, prone to paranoia and seeing threat where there is none. But it is important! Especially on this day, have you come for instructions on the wielding of a sword?"

"Please teach me," Link said, giving a respectful bow to signify a beginning of a lesson. The others might think that Orca was just a silly, deluded old man, but he saw a wisdom in Orca's eyes equal to that of Sturgeon. It was a different sort of wisdom, but wisdom nonetheless.

Fifteen minutes worth of warm-up exercises and basic instructions later, Orca nodded in approval, and returned his spear to a vertical position, smiling and nodding. Link had rarely seen him quite so well-pleased.

"I thought you might come to see me, today, even before the true celebration. And I was right. I have a gift for you—the sword I once used in my youth. It calls out for you, recognising some sort of nobility in your spirit. Complete the attire of the Hero with one of his most important tools—the sword. I trust you to continue to work on your swordplay, and not to abuse this sword. You can return at any time, whether to continue training, or to show me what you have learnt, or merely to talk, you are always welcome here."

He held out a bandolier of blue, and sheathed in it, a short sword with a plain brown hilt. Link bowed again, in respect.

"Thank you. I would not dream of misusing this sword," he said.

"There is no need for thanks," Orca replied. "You have earned this blade through your dedication to the art. Happy birthday, Link Sylvanus."

Outside, Link felt conspicuous, holding onto the sword by the bandolier, but he didn't want to put it on—first, that would make him feel _more_ conspicuous, and second, he would shortly need to change his clothes anyway.

He continued to think as he tiptoed past Zill's point of lookout, glancing with bated breath up the slope to Rose and Abe's house, next to which slope Zill stood. He very nearly bumped into Sue-Belle, Sturgeon's granddaughter, doing this. She had filled a jar with water from the covered well near the path, and was carrying it to her grandfather, but she stopped to smile and to say hello. She had turned seventeen a couple of years ago, but girls did not go through the same celebration as boys did when they came of age. Link was briefly inclined to envy her.

Still, given a choice between Zill and the clothes of the Hero, the clothes seemed the lesser torment. Maybe they weren't as bad as they looked, after all. Grandma was practically a professional seamstress, of the sort he'd heard lived on faraway Windfall Island.

Opening the door to his own home, now, he gently set the sword, bandolier and all, on the floor in the corner. From the entrance, he could clearly see the second storey. Grandma stood there, back turned to him, facing the plain wooden shield hanging on the wall. It was, as she had told him several times, a tradition to hang the family shield on the wall. In bygone days, it had been a sign of peace and prosperity, which were now the norm.

He climbed the ladder to the second storey, and Grandma immediately thrust the stack of clothes into his arms. Perhaps it was his imagination, but they sure _felt_ heavy. He was still staring at them in despair when Grandma spoke:

"Ah, how swiftly the time flies. Can it already be your seventeenth birthday, Link? It seems only yesterday you were just a little baby—and now look; you're an adult! I'm sure you'll look very mature in the clothes Grandma made for you. I know they can be a bit uncomfortable—you should have heard your father protest!—but it's only for one day, sweetie.

"Remember what they symbolise. This is an important tradition, dating back to the very beginning of Outset's settlement. Just like hanging the family shield on the wall. And it's especially important for us to observe these customs, for the family shield belonged to the Legendary Hero himself! That's right," Grandma said proudly, noticing his astonished look. "Our family descends from the Hero of Time himself! So wear those clothes with pride!"

Speaking thus, she descended back to the lower storey to resume cooking. He had the strange sense that she could tell when he was coming, sometimes. Surely, she hadn't waited on this upper storey for however long it might have taken for Aryll to find him, wake him, and get him to finally come home.

Link went over behind the bed curtains, to his bed, for some place to sit and try to understand the foreign garments. Soft brown boots were carefully set upright on the floor nearby, the brown belt with its curious spiral design laid carefully on top. The dark green sleeveless tunic was set next to him, leaving behind the grass green long-sleeved undershirt and brown trousers. The pointed hat of the same colour as the tunic required some thought, and perhaps he would even need help putting it on. He set it atop the tunic, and then began to switch out clothes.

The bright orange pants he was accustomed to were replaced by the brown trousers, leaving him in his bright, sky blue shirt. The trousers were reassuringly loose-fitting and cool, and he felt a bit bolder to the idea of the rest of the outfit. The long-sleeved shirt was unfamiliar in its softness and flexibility, but not as warm as he'd expected. And somehow, the weight of the green tunic was reassuring. When he had pulled on his boots and buckled the belt, he folded his old clothes—his everyday clothes! It wasn't as if he were keeping the ceremonial outfit!—and picked up the hat.

Obviously, the end with the brim fit over his head, somehow. He tested the natural give of the fabric, and found it severely lacking. He suspected that the only way to possibly attach the hat was with a glimmer of the almost forgotten gift of magic. He considered asking Grandma for help.

At length, he managed to stretch it over the top of his head, and even to work at the brim, pulling it down over his hair to help keep it in place. It did not feel as if it would stay, but it waited until he had found Grandma before coming undone. He couldn't tell quite what she had done, but he was almost certain that it was, indeed, magic.

He came down from the second storey, and again was fussed over by Grandma, but now he was actually thinking about the fact that, up until this point, no one had told him or Aryll of the non-small detail that his ancestor had been the Hero of Time. He might have confronted her about it, but not only was he a rather non-confrontational sort of person, but there was also the fact that it was still the day of his coming-of-age, which had a religious sort of quality to it. It would not do to corrupt the proceedings of the festivities by introducing unwarranted strife. He could always ask her tomorrow, right? That day had no religious significance.

Instead, after she had fixed the hat on his head, he let her send him off to find Aryll and bring her back to the house to help Grandma. Link already knew where he had last seen her, and, as it was her favourite place on the whole of the island, it was doubtful that she had moved from the lookout tower.

Heading back towards the wooden bridge, he could clearly see the seagulls flocking around the height of the lookout tower—the clearest visible sign of Aryll's presence, with the sun high overhead, and her dress the same colour of the sea.

"Are those the clothes of the legendary hero?" she asked without preamble when his head at last graced the top of the ladder, and he had come to stand with her by the railing. "They look like they'd be pretty hot to wear…."

Link shrugged—the unfamiliar outfit took some getting used to, and the slap of the sword on his thigh felt like it would surely bruise it, but at least the outfit wasn't as warm as it appeared—and the extra layer helped to provide some cushioning. All told, it could have been much worse.

When he told Aryll this, she looked at him incredulously, but smiled. "Well, anyway. I still haven't given you a birthday present. Close your eyes and hold out your hands!"

Link raised an eyebrow, but did what he was told. Technically, he knew, he was supposed to wait until the official ceremony—which was why no one had given him anything yet except for Orca. It wasn't an official or religious rule—only a custom, and, while Orca was rather dismissive of anything that didn't show its utility, and saw no point in waiting to give a gift that was more useful given earlier, most people would observe the habit, even if it only didn't occur to them to give him something earlier.

A heavy weight suddenly weighed down his hands, and he resisted the urge to open his eyes to see what Aryll had put there before she told him to open them, knowing she would scold him if he didn't listen. It appeared to be some sort of tapering object, thick on one end, and thin on the other, with a knob on the side….

Despite himself, his eyes flew open, and he stared at the brown telescope in his hands. An out-of-the-way settlement like Outset didn't have very many imports, and this particular one was an heirloom from their Grandfather, to whom the sailor who was Ranath's father had given it, who had put in at Outset while touring the Great Sea, and had left again before realising that the woman who had taken him in and provided food and shelter was pregnant.

She had never seen him again—it was quite a sad story, to Link's mind—but he had left her with the telescope (allegedly one of his most prized possessions), and a number of stories about Windfall Island, whence he hailed. Grandma was always rather wistful at this point, telling them that she had wanted to go to Windfall, as he had asked her to do, but, with the need to raise a child, had never felt the freedom to either leave the child behind, or bring him over treacherous waters to the distant island.

And here it was, the telescope of his grandfather, by far Aryll's most prized possession. For a moment, he was at a loss for words, remembering the sad story.

"But Aryll," he said at last. "This is your telescope! You can't give it to me."

Aryll sighed, shaking her head fondly. "I'm just giving you the use of it for one day, silly," she said. "So be careful with it! I want it back after this day is over…. Oh, look! The postman is here!"

Sure enough, standing before the communal island postbox was the rito postman, Quill. As Link watched, the birdlike man reached into his ivory canvas messenger bag, withdrew one or two letters, and carefully slotted them into the red box. Then, as if startled by something, he looked up into the sky, and, knees bent, he began to flap white-edged brown wings, hovering in place by constantly flapping his wings.

"The postman is acting a bit funny, don't you think?" Aryll mused, looking in the same direction as Link. "I wonder what… if you used the telescope—Oh, look! Up in the sky! If only I still had my telescope!"

Link took the hint, and set the eyepiece to his eye, pointing up at the sky above Quill. To include Aryll, he told her what he saw as the event unfolded—and event it was.

Unidentifiable as anything other than a shapeless mass at first, a huge black bird with golden tail feathers beat huge white tipped wings, soaring over the island. Immediately noticeable was a steel mask covering its head and beak. After that, the fact that it had apparently abducted a girl was impossible to miss, if you thought to check why its wingbeats seemed unusually stiff.

Link felt _something_, looking up at that huge bird—a sense of familiarity, although how this could be he was far from certain—he had never ever even heard of such a creature before. Nevertheless, he could have sworn he had experienced something like this before. Maybe in a dream!

A dark grey ball flew out from the direction of the sea, narrowly missing the bird, and Link unthinkingly turned the telescope in the direction of the cannonball's origin—a massive pirate ship, immediately recognisable as such with the square pirate flag of skull and crossbones on a black field proudly displayed. As he watched, another was fired from the cannon, and he followed its trajectory as it hit the bird cleanly on the side of its head, where the unnaturally strong grey mask protected it from the worst of damage. Unfortunately for the bird, in its surprise at being hit, it dropped the girl, who fell into the forest on the summit of the Western Island.

"Oh no!" Aryll exclaimed, as Link lowered the telescope. "That poor girl! Do you think she's hurt? You'd better go check on her, Link. Of course, you'd better have something to protect yourself with, in case there are more monsters on the summit. No one's been there for such a long time."

Link reassured her that he did, in fact, have a means of defence, and wholly agreed with her that it was the duty of hospitality of the islanders that he ensure that the girl was alright.

Having resolved to do this, he hastened back down the ladder, pausing at the bottom to wave to Aryll, and ran down the pier, not hesitating to set up the impassable Eastern Island slope. The sharp sword of Orca made short work of any barrier he couldn't merely push past, and he was careful to leave as much of the path undisturbed as possible, mindful as he was of the fact that there were still children on the island who might recklessly venture up the path seeking adventure, if they were not hindered.

Now, for the first time in his life, he saw the top of Outset Island. There was a high, unclimbable ledge to his left, a climbable ledge to his right, the ridge past the ledge to his left, and besides that, no railing or anything else to prevent him from falling a very great distance into the sea below, or being painfully dashed against the jutting pillars of rocks springing up between the two islands.

At the far side of the bridge was a dark archway leading into the forest on the western summit. This was where he needed to go. He took a minute to stare at the bridge, finding it in strangely good repair. He did not pause or hesitate any longer, immediately dashing across it, ignoring how it gave under his weight—his mind was firmly set on other matters.

As he approached the archway, the forest became visible beyond. It was, despite being open to the sky, through which the sun shone brightly, especially at this time of day, rather dark beyond the archway. Trees grew tall in the undisturbed woods, blocking out much of the sun. It made the going difficult. He could hardly tell where he was going.

He climbed a ledge, simply to get a better vantage, and found himself standing near a great tall rock, jutting into the sky. Before it stood a sign which, when read, was revealed to be indicating the location of the legendary fairy fountain supposedly once used by the Hero of Time. He wondered where it had gone—if it hadn't just been covered up.

From this ledge, he found another short ledge, and from here, he could see the whole forest. He took a minute to take out Aryll's telescope from where it had disappeared inside his trousers pocket. He hadn't even noticed its weight, really.

He immediately noticed the girl—conspicuous on account of her blonde hair and bright white pants (and to a lesser extent, her bright blue shirt). These were very noticeable colours in the middle of a forest. She was hanging from the branch of a tree by an equally conspicuous bright red sash.

Link climbed up the ridge towards the tree from which the girl was suspended, evidently unconscious, judging by her silence and her closed eyes. He hoped to rescue her before she could realise what an embarrassing position she had landed in.

Just then, the forest grew eerily still and silent, and tension filled the air. An unseen wind from above stirred the upper branches of the trees (Link feared for the stranger, again), and he looked up, in time to see two smaller birds of similar appearance to the one before. Each carried a misshapen, pig-faced monster. Each monster was outfitted alike in open brown vest and trousers, making them seem strangely _human_ to Link's mind. But each carried cudgels, and he was not unaware of the dangers of blunt force. Reluctantly, he drew Orca's sword from the sheath at his side.

As the club of the first monster—he would later learn that they were called bokoblins—fell, he thrust upwards, under the arm wielding the club. As he watched, too stunned to do the smart thing, and redirect his attention to the remaining foe, the image of the monster folded in on itself, disappearing in a puff of smoke. A green rupee took its place. He ignored the money to focus on the second bokoblin, keeping the unconscious girl in the corner of his eye. Such an effort, to get to one girl! Who was she? How was she so important?

He ducked under a blow from the monster's club, barely grazing the monster with his answering blow. Mindful of the dangers of slipping and falling—why were there no twigs or leaves underfoot?— he withdrew, feeling behind him lest he be trapped by the ledge wall. His best guess led him to believe that the strange wood of the club would be too sturdy to cut through with his sword. But he had to admit feeling relieved when the other monster, defeated, had turned into smoke.

This monster, however, did not want to go quietly. He began to fear that the girl would awaken before he defeated his foe. A blow to the shoulder distracted the monster long enough for Link to deliver the mortal blow, but there was no time for watching the transformation this time. The girl had begun to stir.

He had hoped that she would never see her compromising position, but alas, that was not to be. Her eyes opened, and then widened, as she noticed her unusual point of view. He watched her, awkward and feeling a spectator, yet not daring to interfere. She squirmed, she jerked, she threw her weight around as much as it was possible for a girl to do. She was about his age, and rather muscular, for a girl, Link thought to himself. Between her muscle strength and her weight, she managed to snap the branch in half. And fall.

Link did not dare to do the chivalrous thing, and catch her.

As if it were inevitable that help should arrive only when no longer needed, a big, burly man—just the sort for, most probably, even _shaking_ down trees, appeared. His olive green shirt opened near the top to show that he even had the quintessential manly chest hair sticking out. The red bandana on his head might have been made from the same cloth as the scarf around the girl's waist, and Link unconsciously relaxed a bit, even before the man turned to address the much smaller girl. His speech was awkward and hesitant, insecure, and full of admiration.

"Miss Tetra, you're alright!" Link saw the girl raise an eyebrow at the overstatement. "We were so worried when we saw that bird drop you on the summit…."

The girl looked away, biting her lip as if thinking. "'Summit'?" she repeated. "You mean that bird dropped me _on top of a mountain_?"

The man seemed unsure how to respond. Link considered speaking up, but what would he say? In the end, he hadn't really been the hero. He hadn't saved the girl; she had rescued herself, and now this man—one of her associates, would be taking her back to where she belonged. She seemed to be his "boss", in a manner of speaking.

He was fascinated by the exchange, it was true, but it was like a play—readily before the eyes, but so distant. The glimmer of excitement, the promise of novelty that came with the arrival of new faces, was about to go. Things would return to normal. His curiosity would remain unsated, and he knew enough from stories alone that he ought to be glad of the return to peace.

But something had filled his heart, fighting those monsters. A sense of rightness, of belonging, as if this were what he had been meant to do. He watched the girl—the pirate captain?— beckon the big man, listen to her dire imprecations against the abducting bird trail off, and had the urge to stow away on the pirate ship. He firmly quashed the idea, reminding himself of his little sister, and his grandmother, and all the other people of Outset, who would surely miss him, and a sense of belonging—his love of his island—filled him instead.

Still, there wasn't any sense in _avoiding _the pirates, who hadn't noticed him anyway. He followed them back out to the sunshine, and smiled when he saw his sister waving to him on the wooden bridge. It looked sturdier now, safer, of no danger next to the monstrous creatures he had fought in the forest.

And then came the bird, swooping low, clutching Aryll in its talons before he could think, and, rather than taking the time to think, he rushed after her—raced right off the cliff!

For a moment, he hung suspended, wondering why he hadn't fallen to his death on the rocks below. Then he heard a vaguely familiar voice, a voice he had just heard, although it had never spoken to him before. It was the pirate girl—Tetra. The source of her voice was strangely close to his ear.

"You…idiot!" she huffed, obviously struggling with his weight. "She's… one! Falling…off cliff…won't fix…that! You…wanna die?"

"But Aryll…" he protested, watching the giant bird vanish into the distance.

"D'you think…she wants…you…t'die?"

Silence.

"Gonzo…haul'im up."

The burly man grabbed both of his arms, after a while of fishing around for the other one, and hauled a thoroughly embarrassed Link back onto the cliff. He stayed there, on his hands and knees, for a few minutes.

"You cost me my revenge on that bird," Tetra said. "You owe me one for that."

And she stalked away. Link ran after her.


	2. Chapter One: Yo-ho-ho and a Bottle of Milk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link invades the Forsaken Fortress.

**Chapter One: Yo-Ho-Ho And a Bottle of Milk**

"You wanna _what_?" asked Tetra again. This time they were on the beach before Outset, the prow of the pirate ship filling their vision. Link stared at it, his mouth set in grim determination.

"I want to come with you on your pirate ship," he replied, coolly.

"You wanna _what_!" Tetra said, even louder this time.

"I believe that Sylvanus has made his intentions quite clear," said an unfamiliar voice. Link turned to find the source, and was surprised to find that the voice belonged to the very postman he had been spying on not even an hour ago.

"But…but…this idiot _twerp_, on my ship—who does he think he is?!" Tetra (_Captain _Tetra, Link reminded himself) blustered.

"He is a boy who has just lost his sister to that dreadful monster, and wishes to rescue her. Aryll is quite beloved on this island," the postman said.

Link was stricken speechless, temporarily, by the sudden interposition of a complete stranger in his affairs. And on his side, at that.

"And just why should I let _him_—" the captain very meaningfully did not use Link's name "—on board my ship?"

The rito postman glanced at Link with an expression that urged silence. "It is a fact worth noting that you owe him. Twice over, as a matter of fact. First of all, he rescued you from monsters that the monster bird had brought to the island. Secondly, it is because of you that his sister was kidnapped."

"I didn't see any monsters—"

"You were unconscious," Link hastily interjected. Tetra gave him a glare that suggested he was of value equal to, if he were lucky, a one rupee piece. The rito postman silenced him with a stern look, and Link blushed at how _childish_ he sounded. _And today, I am to be considered an adult_, he thought. Ridiculously, he wondered if perhaps, his birthday were actually several months hence, and had been misremembered. He felt a shameful child, the one who broke the cookie jar.

"It's not my fault that girl got kidnapped!" Tetra said, and Link was pleased to hear that she sounded defensive. He wasn't sure exactly how she was to blame, but if she were, then he would give her no quarter in the argument.

The rito postman crossed his arms. "Is that how you see it, Miss Fearsome Pirate? But, we Rito hear many things, carrying the mail far and wide. We have heard the stories already, of girls across the Great Sea with long ears like yours being abducted by a giant bird. Outset Island is so far away that she would have escaped notice, had you not come. If it weren't for you, that bird, what kidnapped you, would not have come to this peaceful island, and that poor girl wouldn't have been kidnapped." He pointed directly at her as he spoke, emphasising his words.

Tetra frowned, and Link could almost _see_ her think.

"Be that as it may," she stalled, but the rito postman, arms once again folded, interrupted her.

"No buts. The least you can do is to take Sylvanus to where his sister is being held captive."

"But, I don't even know—" she began, but the rito cut her off again.

"She is being held in an old abandoned fortress far to the north. I believe they call it 'The Forsaken Fortress'."

The girl's eyes widened in what seemed to be genuine fear.

"'The Forsaken Fortress'?" she repeated. "I've heard rumours about the place. It's become pretty dangerous, hasn't it? And you, little boy. Do you want to do this? Are you sure you don't want to go crying home? Well, I'm not taking you unless you at least have something to _defend_ yourself with. It's common sense. You're going into dangerous territory; you need some sort of defence."

Link was tempted to point out that he had fought off two monsters with just the sword. He was tempted to bristle and point out that he was _hardly_ a little boy anymore. That was the whole meaning of the island clothes. Instead, he turned on his heel, towards the house he had lived in all his life.

"Wait here. Please, Mr. Postman. Don't let her leave without me. I'm not sure I'm a good enough swimmer to catch up to her ship."

The postman's eyebrows quirked, and Link thought he maybe caught a hint of an approving smile as he stalked past.

* * *

The two-storey cliffside home—his home all his life, which now felt taken from him—was not so very far from the sandy shore where the pirate ship lay moored. He passed the house of Sturgeon and Orca at a distance, sticking on the far side of the path, lest he gain their attention. Up the hill he climbed, wary, on the lookout for anyone who might note his passing. He passed, unnoticed and unseen, feeling as if the whole world had ceased to exist to him, or perhaps he had ceased to exist to the whole world, which seemed now empty and unreal.

He climbed the steps up to the lower level of his own home, wanting to knock, and then roughly opened the door, hastening inside.

The shield was in plain view now, and he only had eyes for it. It was a very plain-looking shield, all things considered—not as fancy and ornate as he had expected from the shield of the Legendary Hero. The shields elsewhere in Outset looked much the same. Standard issue—the sort of thing mass-produced. Sturgeon's books said as much.

It was made of steel, but the front was crudely painted over in brown with some sort of design of red vines, and in the middle, a triple triangle, apex pointing down, two equilateral triangles on top, and one on the bottom, arranged so that they formed an equilateral triangle. The same design was on the doors of every home, but there, the triangles were black, not yellow. He wondered what significance it had. It must have meant something important, once. He had never thought about it before, and wished that he could ask Sturgeon. He cautiously tilted the shield to the right, and froze at the small sound of it hitting the wall.

"Ah, so it's true, what they said," said a familiar voice, and Link's heart sank, for the voice belonged to his grandmother.

"Grandma…" he said.

"My poor, sweet, Aryll…kidnapped by monsters. That's why you came here for the shield. You already have a sword. The peace is ended, and you are going to war."

"Grandma, it's not like that," he said. He had wanted to be like the legendary Hero of Time, just as all the island boys had wanted, through centuries. Now, he just wanted Aryll back. That was the main thing. He couldn't bear the thought that his own grandmother see him as a warmonger, the way she always spoke of Orca. _He's a bad influence on you. Such a violent, brutal man_. She could no longer forbid him to visit Orca, but he ached for her approval— she was his mother and father, all the family other than Aryll that he had.

"No, no, I understand," she said. "A desire for peace has left us vulnerable. I know you just want to get Aryll back. Such a good boy. Such a sweet, thoughtful boy."

And his mind filled with memories of the times he had gone behind her back.

"Take the shield, Link," she said. So very quietly. "And bring Aryll back safely."

He nodded, and she reached up, short as she was, and easily lifted the shield from its place of honour on the wall. The ceremonial wreath now surrounded bare wall. It looked lonely.

He noticed a certain frightening _rightness_ about settling the shield on his back, as if it were _meant_ to be there, and the senseless fighting his grandmother so abhorred were what he were _meant_ to do. It occurred to him that this might be the last time he ever saw his grandmother. He considered giving her a hug goodbye, and then thought that that felt too final.

Instead, he jumped down from the second storey, that he not have to face her as he climbed down the ladder, not have to see her face as she watched him leave.

He was at the door, about to open it, when he heard her speak again.

"Link…." He turned back to face her, as if he could not help it, but she was already out of sight. "Be careful. You come home safely, too."

He nodded, again, and stepped back out onto Outset Island. There, still on the shore, the pirate captain waited for him with crossed arms and tapping feet. Her hair was rolled up into a peculiar bun, secured on top of her head by means unseen. Her clothes looked cleaner. He wondered if she had really had the time to do her hair and change her clothes while she waited for him. Perhaps he just hadn't noticed her appearance properly before.

The rito postman was still waiting for him on the shore. Link wondered if he would be punished for shirking his duties, but there was no sense of urgency as the postman turned to face him.

"Link Sylvanus, there is little I can do for you here. However, if you ever find yourself in need of aid, come to Dragon Roost Island, the home of us rito. I'm sure our chieftain, a noble man, will do all he can to help you, if you tell him of your plight. At the very least, remind him that I said that we would help you. Although you might not remember my name, eh?"

The corners of a mouth nearly hidden under the triangular beak turned upwards in what might have been a smile.

"Don't worry; I'm not offended. We've had little speech enough, before. I am Quill. Tell him that Quill sent you, and he should listen. Good luck."

"Are you quite done with the sentimental goodbyes already?" asked the pirate captain, tapping her foot. "Or can we forget this whole thing? I see you got a shield, though. Can you even use that old thing? Are you sure it won't shatter into splinters? No? Well, this is your last chance to go crying home."

"Don't send him off! Don't send him off!" said a pirate boy of about fourteen, in a red-and-white striped shirt and a loose-fitting pair of blue pants and hat. "If he joins, I'm no longer the bottom rung of the ladder! Hey, new swabbie! I'm your new boss, Niko!"

"He is _not_ an honorary pirate," the pirate captain said, eyeing Niko's emotional display with distaste (he was still jumping up and down in excitement even as she began to speak). "Although, it might do him good. Okay, fine. While we're on board, you report to Niko. Do whatever he tells you, and don't cause problems, alright?"

"Yippee!" Niko cried, as Link nodded.

"And you, stop that. It's disgraceful. You're a pirate; act like it."

With that, she turned on her heel and boarded the ship via a gangplank that lowered down from the upper decks while they were talking. She walked up the narrow piece of wood with confidence, whilst Link followed more hesitantly. He wanted to go home already, but Aryll was counting on him.

Not long after that, the pirates set sail, hoisting up the main sail and drawing up anchor, and doing whatever else needed to be done—Link could scarcely follow all of the activity. His eyes kept returning to shore, where the islanders were made aware of their departure by the clanging of a great gong. He scanned the familiar faces with regret, trying to put a happy face on the situation as he waved at them. They already seemed far away.

But, he very nearly lost his composure when he saw that Grandma had come out onto the deck she had used (according to her stories) to watch for his grandfather's return, decades ago. He waved as frantically as he could at her, and saw her wave feebly back. She seemed to be putting her best face on the matter, too. He kept it up as they set sail, further and further out to sea.

But, he was driven out of his thoughts by Tetra's bored voice.

"How much longer do you suppose he'll keep this up?" she asked, ostensibly to Gonzo, the man who had followed her to the summit.

Suddenly self-conscious, just as he was sure she intended, he stopped waving, and frowned.

"What? You're such a baby. You go off to rescue your sister in a fanfare with ceremony as if you've actually done something, and—are you crying? Seriously, it's not too late to throw you overboard."

"I'm going to rescue Aryll," said Link firmly, face set. Tetra did not seem impressed.

"Whatever. Look, keep out from underfoot, and go see what Niko wants you to do. Earn your keep. It won't take more than a few days to get there if things continue as they are; the wind's almost favourable."

Link could tell—he could just tell—that the wind was blowing northeast. He nodded—there was no way that he was going to ask questions or complain. She already thought him pathetic and a baby; there was no need to feed the fire. He caught a brief look of surprise as he stood and made to go downstairs, to where Niko awaited, but he turned, as he approached the stairs to below decks.

"Thank you, Tetra," he said, giving a brief bow, and descended into the below without turning back.

* * *

He did acclimate, if slowly, to life on board the pirate ship, but it was hard to get used to the constant jeers from almost every member of the crew. Only Niko seemed to like him, but apparently the crew at large had never heard of the legend of the Hero of Time, judging by the constant barrage of insults his outfit received.

Tetra and Gonzo, oddly enough, were the only other two pirates who did not mock him for his clothes. Gonzo, obsequious to Tetra, but hardly rougher towards anyone else, didn't have the temperament.

But, Tetra was an oddity. He seemed to have gained some modicum of respect, or perhaps he was an object of curiosity. He wasn't sure. No explanation he thought of made sense. He could never have a conversation with her without her implying that she thought he was a wimp, but—perhaps it was guilt?—she seemed to be taking the rescue mission seriously.

For his part, he was all too aware of his vulnerability and how much rode on staying in Tetra's good graces. He did not want to get on her bad side, and be cast overboard into the sea (although he began to suspect she would not actually do this; a lot of her gruff demeanour seemed to just be a tough façade.

When Niko hadn't set him a task, and he had free time—which was almost only at night, when he slept, or at mealtime—he might occasionally try to speak to Tetra, but she grew increasingly irritable with him. He had to back down when she turned her pirate captain glare of disapproval at him.

He understood, staying on board the ship, why the pirates respected and were somewhat intimidated by her. Nevertheless, he discovered that the journey was expected to last three days, that Tetra ran the pirates alone, and that the Forsaken Fortress was located far to the North, and had once been the home of some small time rivals of Tetra's crew, but now seemed shrouded by an ominous force that brooked no daylight.

She did not seem to care to learn anything from him in return, and interrupted him more swiftly if he tried to make small talk with her than if he tried to discuss the mission at hand.

Niko, he knew well, only appreciated no longer having to do the most menial tasks of the ship; Link felt certain that, even during his short stay on board, his complete lack of skill at cooking had improved radically, as he learnt how to make the most of the pirates' preserved stores. Nor could he ever not appreciate his grandmother's hard work cleaning and tidying the house. The pirate ship was larger, it was true, but many of the tasks were familiar chores from home.

The oddest task was one that Niko finally had set up for him on what turned out to be the final day of their voyage. He claimed that this task was one that all pirates had to undergo when they joined the crew (Link was sceptical; Niko seemed to be going out of his way to hide what he was doing from the rest of the pirates). Down below decks, in the cargo hold, raised platforms held up by rotating wooden posts rose up at various points throughout the room. On the far side was a ledge of about equal height, and a door in the middle, leading to a room Link had never been to.

As Link entered the room where the task was set up, he noticed barrels off to the sides of the room, and two switches on the raised ledge where he was standing. He reconsidered the task being a construction of Niko's own devising—how would he have hidden those platforms, and the switches?

Link had little time to contemplate the truth or falsity of the story before Niko's exuberant voice cut into his thoughts.

"There you are, swabbie! Behold, the super hard pirate crew entrance test! Only those who pass this difficult task are allowed to become pirates. You see that ledge over there?" Niko pointed to the ledge at the far end of the room. "Your task is to get to that ledge and through the open doorway before time runs out, and the switch resets itself. And how do you do that, you ask?"

Link hadn't asked, but Niko didn't seem to care. He took a running jump onto a platform in front of him, and turned back to face Link. "See, you jump from platform to platform. But it's not that easy. That next platform that I need to get to is too far to jump. So, I'll just have to swing from the rope holding the lamps."

Niko had definitely not come up with this on his own. Link noticed the lamps dangling from ropes scattered throughout the room and began to chart a course to the other side of the room. It was good experience, he figured. You never knew what knowledge might come in useful—Sturgeon had taught him that.

He watched Niko grab onto the rope, carefully manipulate his body to bring the rope to a standstill, climb a bit higher up the rope (which remained stationary, to Link's surprise; the lanterns must be very heavy, to balance out Niko's weight); then Niko pumped out his legs, swinging back and forth, and the rope began to sway, and the timbres above to creak, but Niko paid them no mind, launching off when he had gathered enough momentum.

He landed on the platform hard, took a moment to catch his breath and to recover from the impact, and proceeded across the room.

"But, be careful, swabbie. If time runs out, the platforms drop—" an ominous ticking filled the room, as Niko ran through the door, "—and the portcullis falls."

A heavy grate fell down, obscuring Niko from view. Niko's voice carried through the square holes, however, unimpeded. "It will probably take you a year. One rough year, full of bumps and bruises. But, if you make it sooner, I'll give you something, as a reward."

Link noticed that the platforms had sunk into the floor, and were covered by trapdoors. He looked at the two switches, and chose one at random to step on.

The platforms rotated upwards, and Link took a moment to wonder how that worked before running for the first platform. From there, the process seemed unusually easy. Niko had made the task seem very difficult, but he made it through the door, not only on his first attempt, but with time to spare.

Perhaps Niko had been exaggerating the difficulty deliberately, to make it seem more intimidating than it was? But, he seemed genuinely surprised that it had taken Link such a short time. Take his stutter for example, when he congratulated Link, or the way he seemed to have to think fast about what Link's reward could be.

"I know!" he cried, after several minutes of searching frantically around the storage room beyond the ledge. "Here!"

And Niko thrust a wallet full of rupees at him. "This wallet carries two hundred rupees! Isn't that a great reward? Aren't I a great… supervisor… guy?"

"It has money in it, already. Are you sure you should be giving this?"

Niko was one of the few people who were nice to Link, and Link didn't want to see him castigated by Tetra. Plus, Link already had a wallet, hidden somewhere in his clothes. He had forgotten about it until just now—and maybe he had left it back on the island in his haste? No, he was sure that he had it.

"Two hundred rupees isn't much. It's my old wallet, the one I used before I was old enough to join the crew. I've lived on the boat all my life, you see, but—"

"Oi! Sylvanus! Get your lazy butt up here!"

Both of them jolted, perhaps each feeling a bit guilty, and Niko looked a bit pale in the lantern light. "Go on! Take it and go!"

Link suspected that there was no time for arguing. He stuffed the wallet into a pocket in his clothes, and ran out the door, and up to the deck of the ship. Tetra stood off to the left, staring out over the sea. "Took you long enough!" she snapped, rather unfairly. "Look out there!" She gestured in the direction she had been looking. "We're here."

Link looked off to the left, where a huge…fortress…rose high into the sky. Three sets of searchlights constantly roved the surface. A nest up on a higher spire contained a giant helmeted bird.

He pulled out his telescope to look closer. "Look over there," Tetra said, before he could start scouring the outside of the base from top to bottom. She tilted the telescope down and to the right, and Link took a step back. "Sorry. Got a bit impatient. But, do you see that window? How all the seagulls flock around the light? Didn't you say seagulls were drawn to your sister?"

Link nodded, and then gulped, lowering the telescope. "I think it's your best bet," Tetra said. "We're not going to get a clearer sign. Whoever rules this place won't advertise where the girls are being held, if he went through the trouble of kidnapping them."

Link quietly wondered how many people had come to rescue someone being held here. There were several victims, if what Quill had said was true.

Tetra was continuing to talk as he thought, and he came back to her words in time to be horrified. And rather scared.

"Don't worry a bit about this. We've got a ton of practice. It's the very best way to sneak in undetected, and it won't hurt at all."

He had been told that something wouldn't hurt at all several times throughout his life, usually in relation to injuries that Sturgeon, or Orca, or his grandma had had to tend. She had always assured him that the alcohol he knew was about to be applied would not hurt at all, which did nothing to change the fact that it did. He didn't know what was about to happen, but he did know that it was going to be painful.

"Get in the barrel," Tetra instructed him, and he wondered when the navigator, a man whose name he had never gotten to know, but who had made his disdain for Link's clothes the plainest, had dragged a barrel up next to him. Had he been _that_ distracted?

"Don't worry; it's quite safe," Tetra reassured him, and both her tone of voice, and her words, increased his wariness tenfold. She had no right being so _amused_ by the situation.

But, the alternative was facing her wrath, and (call him a coward) he didn't feel quite up to that.

He climbed into the barrel, and then clung to the rim as he was lowered into the mouth of the cannon? What!

"We're professionals. You'll be fine. Just find your sister and get out of there. We'll wait for you for one day—alright? Next sunset, we leave. So, hurry up. That place is huge!"

"Three!" called the helmsman. Link could imagine the glee the man was experiencing at the thought of his impending misfortune. Link closed his eyes, and tried to calm down. "Two!" the same voice called. Link clung to the lip of the barrel, wishing he had more faith in the pirates to do this right. The walls looked very sturdy, and the barrel felt very flimsy. "One!"

He closed his eyes, and braced himself, and a moment later, he felt the wind rushing past his face, and almost forgot the danger for a moment. Perhaps, this was how Tetra had felt, in the clutches of the great bird, back home on Outset. But, the feeling of weightlessness was something _he_ found exhilarating. He had a fleeting wish that he someday might learn to fly—a ridiculous notion, but the air was making him giddy.

Then, the barrel made impact with the hard stone wall, and the wall was quite as hard as it looked from a distance, and the barrel quite as flimsy as it had seemed. He smashed into the wall, the blow slightly softened by the barrel's impact, and then by its shielding wood, but it still hurt worse than anything he had experienced yet.

He stifled a cry, and then he was falling backwards, back first, and the sword fell from its sheath, clattering to the ground somewhere far below, and he followed a different course, landing in a pond at the waterway entrance to the fort.

Professionals, ha!

* * *

He quickly swam onto a nearby ledge, and bent over on hands and knees at the water's edge, thankful that the impact hadn't killed him, and, although dripping wet, thankful even that he hadn't drowned.

Then, his pocket quivered, and a voice spoke, muffled by the fabric. He had a moment's bewildered disorientation, and then he reached in, and pulled out a necklace he had never seen before, with a blue stone glowing inside. Within the stone appeared the face of Tetra, looking a bit sheepish. "Sorry about that. Looks like our aim was a bit off."

"You're _sorry_?" Link repeated in a harsh whisper. "Thanks to your carelessness, I'm in the entrance to enemy territory with nothing but a shield. And, how are you talking to me, anyway?"

"Well, well, well. So, you do have a bit of gumption after all. But, the harm's done. I saw your sword land on a ledge, somewhere up pretty high, but there seems to be a lot of activity there. It seemed near to the window where we agreed your sister is, so you're going there, anyway. Just retrieve the sword then, and hurry up, lest the guards find it. And we're talking via the stone I slipped into your pocket."

Link blushed scarlet at the realisation that he hadn't even noticed her do that. When had it happened? Far too much of his awkwardness came back; it was too difficult to remain angry with Tetra for a well-intentioned plan that had accidentally gone wrong.

He turned away from Tetra to hide his embarrassment and discomfiture, but turned back when she continued. "Anyway, we're in this together, right? I did say I'd help you. So, I'll be your guide. This stone allows me to see and hear things around you. Call it a sort of psychic connection. Got it?"

Link, remembering Sturgeon's lessons of a few days ago, nodded. "Well, with this, I can help you by giving you advice on rescuing your sister. For example, I'm suspecting that you'll find the path to the place where they're keeping your sister somewhere directly below the room, like in a tower.

"But, you probably want to take out those searchlights first. So, try to find a way up to the three lookout towers. It looks like there are monsters manning the lights, and they get up there via ladders. Be on the lookout, and I'll try and help out, too. If I have anything more to say, you'll know. Sorry, but that's the way the communication stones work."

Link put the stone back in his pocket, blushing again, and reached for the shield strapped to his back. It was something, at least, and he still had Aryll's telescope—he couldn't face the thought of telling her he'd somehow lost it.

* * *

He noticed an empty storage barrel sitting near the water's edge, doubtless to make it easier to refill, and hid himself in it, unsurprised, after his barrel-based disaster, to find that he fit into it easily. He began to crawl across a level central "square", relying on what little he could see through the slats of the poorly constructed barrel to let him know when the searchlights were approaching, and whither he was heading.

It was an arduous, painstakingly slow process, but he was kept on edge by the threat of what might happen to him if the monsters notice that something was amiss, and he be caught. He avoided the tall double doors off to the left, thinking that if anywhere were to be the central base for the monsters, and a last resort path, it was the room beyond. Bright light seeped through under the door, which was barred from the outside. It would take too long to remove that bar and enter, anyway, and the searchlights never stopped.

Instead, he headed for a covered walkway, and the uncovered path leading upwards. He could only faintly make out where he was going, but it would be much harder for the lights to reach into the covered walkway, so it seemed a good starting choice.

Upon reaching the other side of the centre of the Forsaken Fortress, he eagerly removed the barrel from over his head, and hastened into the covered walkway, waiting for the searchlights to leave before daring to peek around to try to see where the uncovered path might lead. He even dared to creep around the side wall barrel-less, but quickly retreated under the covered path when he saw the searchlights—seemingly two different sets—sweep over the path. He hastened to retreat back to the safety of the covered path, resolving to wait until he had taken out at least one of the lights before returning. He noticed that he seemed to be swiftly limiting his avenues of approach, and wondered if he weren't making a mistake.

The walkway had another archway leading to a balcony, this directly facing him, and set into the balcony was a ladder. He remembered what Tetra had said about ladders leading up to the searchlights, and began to climb.

At the top of the ladder, he found a flat area enclosed almost entirely by a short bounding wall—about half his height, if he could judge—with two gaps in it only: the one by which he had entered, and another, more or less opposite. At least half of the floor space was occupied by the searchlight, mounted on a swiveling base, which had a small barrier around it to prevent the searchlight from falling off. A platform led up to the searchlight, with a place for its operator to stand. At least, Link assumed that the black-furred monster standing before it was its operator.

Link recognised the monster as of the same type he had fought back on the summit at home. But, back then, he had had a sword. Now, he only had a shield. Good thing that the bokoblin was equipped with nothing more dangerous than a cudgel. Link noticed a pot full of similar cudgels standing nearby. Well, it was better even such a crude weapon than nothing.

Feeling that this was a thoroughly unheroic and unseemly start to his quest, he crouched down low to the ground and began to crawl towards the jar, lest he catch the guard's attention. The guard was, thankfully, not the attentive sort, although sentry work on such a forbidding fortress was likely very dull work for an inhabitant—there were never any ships coming near enough to pose a threat. Complacence was understandable.

When he came to the pot, Link abruptly stood, swiftly reaching as far down into the pot as he could to grab the thinnest part of the club. He pulled it out far enough to reach down further for a better grip, and then held the club in both hands; he hadn't realised before how heavy it was. The bokoblin had not seemed particularly strong, but it still carried the club with ease in only one of its hands. Likely a blow from such a hand was almost as bad as being hit with the club.

Steeling himself, Link resigned himself to facing the monster armed only with a club. As he approached it, as if sensing his presence, the monster turned around, swinging the club with a twisting jump attack. Link ducked and whacked the creature in the face, then retracted the club with an effort, and, judging that the monster was about to jump towards him again, dodged to the right, and positioned the club that the monster whack itself on the head when it straightened up from the jump. The blow connected with limited force, but the monster staggered, and Link quickly whacked it on the head again.

To his surprise, as before on the summit, the monster seemed to compress into a ball of smoke, and then disappear, this time leaving behind a necklace with a giant butterfly on it. It was so vibrant—yellow, pink, and blue—that Link wondered how the monster had come by it. It did not fit his image of the sort of jewelry a monster would wear, if indeed a monster wore jewelry at all. He picked it up, and slipped it into his pocket, thinking that he could show it to someone later, and learn more about where these pendants came from.

Turning back to the searchlights, he realised that, at some point during the battle, each of the trumpet shaped horns had risen so that both searchlights pointed straight into the sky. Well, that made things simpler. But, doubtless, whoever was in charge of the fortress would soon realise that his searchlights were malfunctioning, and then Link would be found out. He had better hurry. He dropped the club and hurried to make sure that there was ground beneath the second gap of the wall.

With no better plan of attack available, Link jumped off the other side of the tower from that whence he had entered. He found himself on the winding, uncovered ramp upwards he had noticed earlier. At the other end, and sweeping at an angle over the path, was a second searchlight. Well, the plan had worked well enough thus far….

* * *

Two searchlights later, Link found himself on a balcony near a covered walkway, feeling much safer with the searchlights all out.

He also felt that he had a much better layout of the Fortress. The essential shape of the Fortress was that of a hexagon. A series of rooms, each with two landings over a lower level that he could only reach the other side by swinging across a lamp rope, connected covered walkways to one another. Every other room was located under a tower.

However, one room caught his attention, for rather than two doors—one the entrance, and one leading to the next covered walkway—this room had _three_. He had made his best guess, judging that the door he _didn't_ have to swing on a lamp rope to get to led to the covered walkway.

And, he had been right. But now, he was curious about that other door. He had made a circuit of the Fortress, as this was only the second of the joining rooms he had been in. But, he found that the rooms were remarkably consistent (although the very next room had a path leading away to what seemed to be a jail, the other rooms were very straightforward).

He realised that he was running out of locations for the path to the tower, and, while slamming into walls was a disorienting experience, he had a feeling that he was near to where he had begun, and the mysterious third door was his pathway _up_. He glanced back at the ladder up to the third searchlight tower, and then retraced his footsteps, cautiously swinging across the gap to the mysterious door.

Beyond was a completely different sort of room. He saw two monsters, both of the same type, but which he had never seen before, wearing blue trousers and (why not?) necklaces of orange and teal beads with skulls pendants in the centre. Both carried a jabbing spear with suspicious casualness, and both carried a lantern in the other hand. A wooden walkway curved in a circle around the room, and it was in this circle that the monsters (the moblins) trod. At the opposite end was a ramp leading to a door hidden in the wall. Or, at least, Link hoped that there was a hidden door, because he was running out of locations for the tower's entrance.

Noticing that the monsters often seemed to need to pause and sniff the air around them, he guessed that their eyesight was not quite up to guard duty, and hoped that the barrels conveniently near the entrance would help mask his scent.

He pulled one over his head, as before, and began to crawl, heart in his throat with the threat of those spears so near. Whenever a moblin came within his line of vision, or whenever he felt a strange sense of danger (of being _watched_, Orca would say), he immediately stopped and let the barrel settle over him, holding his breath until the moblin disappeared from sight, and the sense of danger passed.

In this way, he made the slow journey, clockwise, about the edges of the room, and kept the barrel on him until the wall that had blocked the exit door from his sight hid him from view. Then, he hastened to push open the doors and to head outside.

* * *

Outside was a balcony, initially seeming completely closed off, until he turned to look to his immediate left, whence a path led up. It put him in mind of the covered walkway he had encountered near the entrance, but this one was uncovered—no roof blocked out the elements, or the light from the searchlights. He was glad that he had disabled the lights; who knew what the monsters would do to any whom they managed to capture? The fall from such a height was rather intimidating.

Seeing a conveniently placed barrel ("what, again?" his mind demanded; this one had no logical purpose being there), he sighed, hoping that he were merely over-cautious and thorough, and that there was no real need of it.

He had scarce covered himself before a sense of danger arose—he shivered, his senses heightened, and tried to slack his breath. He had the sense that the skull-wearing monsters were more dangerous than those that left behind butterfly jewelry. He wondered if, even with his sword, he would have been able to defeat them.

At length, the moblin turned around, swinging its lantern and spear, and began marching back whence it had come, back up the path. Link followed with great caution, hoping that this was the only guard. It was merciful that his previous experience with moblins informed him that they were not intelligent enough to question the behaviour of mobile barrels—just as long as they did not see them in action, anyway.

Eventually, the moblin once more turning around to head back below informed him that the path was nearing its end. Judging as best he could his height, he suspected that he was near the top of the tower wherein his sister was being kept, and excitement crept up on him. He found himself reaching for a sword that wasn't there, and realised that he was paying dangerously little attention to his surroundings. He was almost done with his quest; Aryll was almost rescued; he would very soon go _home_.

He stilled, calming himself down sufficiently in time to avoid piquing the sentinel's suspicions. He began the now maddeningly slow crawl up to the end of the path. Through the slats, he perceived the abrupt turn of the path onto another balcony, rather like the one below. The narrow gap in the bounding wall had large holes bored into it, and he took a moment to wonder how to pick a path across. But, as he approached, laying a hand upon the hole, he felt a cool, smooth substance—like invisible glass. It must be safe to walk over, and, on the other side, he could remove the barrel—the moblins couldn't see that far, he would be out of their line of sight, and the bounding wall would hide him in any case.

He ignored the holes in the floor, and entered the balcony. There was no guard (he realised that he had assumed that there would be none on account of not hearing anything, or seeing the flicker of the lights they bore; foolishly careless of him, Orca and Sturgeon would swift agree).

But, with his goal, at last, in sight, he grew impatient, and perhaps justifiably careless. He turned to great double doors, wooden and several storeys high, barred with a thick square log held in place with brackets. Beyond this door must be Aryll. Fortuitously, the door itself was outside of the direct sight of the entryway; even if he had some trouble prising free the bar, he would not be seen.

He almost tripped over the sword Orca had given to him, and took a moment to feel guilty for forgetting Orca's gift; but for its personal value, there was no more need of it; the quest was almost done. But, it felt…reassuring, to return the blade to its proper place of the sheath at his side. He wondered whether it might not prove useful in opening the door, and cringed at the thought of Orca's reaction to his using the sword as a lever.

He made for the door, and was about to reach for the bar when the sound of metal against stone drew his attention to the entrance to the balcony. A green monster with an overbite suggesting a kinship with the butterfly jewelry monsters had somehow appeared at the edge of the balcony, facing him, while he had been preoccupied with the door. This one dressed quite similarly, as well, with a leather vest, and pants. Perhaps it was just a different colour of fur of the same monster, the way ordinary people had different skin colours.

It did have, however, one decidedly non-cosmetic difference; in its hand, it bore a sword (a cutlass, he believed it was called) with an ease that suggested that it knew well how to wield such a blade—trained, perhaps, from childhood—as Link had been?

He should not have relaxed. The monster came toward him, and he, grudgingly, accepted that he must go to meet it. A glance to the side told him what noise he had heard—not the drawing of the bokoblin's sword, but the springing of a trap of steel spikes, barring his only exit.

Chastising himself for his folly and impulsivity, he drew the sword and shield off from their respective places, using them in tandem for the first time.

He found that he understood more than he had given himself credit for of Orca's instruction. His shield rose, almost automatically, to block a blow from the bokoblin to his left side, and Link took the opportunity, as he knew the bokoblin's sword was occupied, to reach past and land a cut of his own across the vest, deepening as it approached the vital areas of the creature's chest.

The brevity of the battle surprised him, as the creature folded in on itself in a puff of black smoke, to be replaced with another of those butterfly pendants. He did not dare to sheathe the sword, standing still for several long moments. The spikes of the trap at the entryway did not retract, but no new monsters appeared.

Eventually relaxing, he returned sword to sheath, but kept the shield ready in case of ambush.

Walking back towards the door, he swiftly laid a hand on the bar, and then immediately snatched it back, listening, intent on catching any sign of the enemy before they could attack. He turned to look back at the balcony. No one was there.

He reached again for the bar, and, slowly, lifted it from the brackets. It was not as heavy as he had expected. The door, despite its great size, was easy to push open, which, he supposed, made sense; it must have been the way by which the prisoners had entered, and prisoners were not known for being easy to handle. Preventing escape meant keeping the door in good working order.

There was a metal grate in the middle of the room, leading down into darkness, and it immediately caught his eye. He took a second to wonder if the prisoners weren't being held down there, when he heard a familiar voice, close by:

"Link! Over here, silly! I _told_ you he would come, Mila."

His heart leapt at the sound of Aryll's voice, coming from a heretofore-unnoticed cage-like prison lining the wall to his left. Within that cage were several girls, of varying ages. There were a couple of very young children—no older than six or seven, and several girls in their teens. Some had blonde hair, some brunette, some black, and there were even a couple of redheads. Aryll, one of three preteen girls, was not within his immediate line of sight, but her sky blue dress stood out against the drabness of her prison as well as against the tamer clothes of the other girls.

Well, mostly tamer. Aryll was facing a girl of about Link's own age—maybe as young as fifteen, with long blonde hair the same colour as Aryll's or Link's, done up in a bun, with a blue headdress. She wore a salmon pink hoop skirt, and carried a hand fan.

She had the sort of personality that could always make it clear that they were looking down on you in contempt; she was definitely in the middle of doing that now, and her contempt seemed to be directed at Aryll.

Link's dark blue eyes met hers, and she scoffed, and then turned away with an indifference that must be masking discomfort. Link realised, belatedly, that he was glaring at her, on account of her treatment of his younger sister.

Aryll, grinning broadly, waved at him, before beckoning him over.

"You said that he would rescue us," said Mila—the girl with the fancy clothes must be Mila, or Link would assume that she was for simplicity's sake. There was a brief pause, and then Mila finished, "He hasn't rescued us yet. Don't be so cocky."

Link was about to realise that he had no means of opening their cage (he would doubtless have attempted breaking through the bars, somehow), when he felt a sense of towering dread, followed by a strong wind, blowing him backwards to the mysteriously closed great doors. And, the pressure of the wind only increased, driving him back, no matter how he try to dig in his feet into the unyielding ground….

Before he could make any plans, he saw the face of a familiar nightmare as it bore down on him, eyes gleaming yellow in its steel mask, vividly yellow talons extended, powerful wings drawn in as it plunged toward him, before he was roughly seized by those talons, and, with a few swift wingbeats, so loud in their proximity that they drowned out Aryll's cries, and any response the blonde-haired girl, Mila, might have made, up they flew, and up, and up, as Link tried to neither panic, nor scream.

He focused on surveying the fortress—what he could see of it, trapped as he was in the jaws of a giant bird. He oriented himself by the bird's nest, and watched in ever-mounting dread as they flew towards a great shipwreck, some old wooden vessel, capsized, and then hauled up here. It now served as the home base for a man—Link couldn't see the man's face, but immediately a strong feeling of foreboding—the warning that he was in the presence of evil—filled him. Fear and dread overwhelmed him, try as he might to force them down, but he kept his eyes open, looking, watching.

The man had skin with a greenish cast to it, covered in a long, loose black robe, a robe with thick decorative bands at the cuffs and the lining. The broad body—broad from girth or muscle, he couldn't tell, but his foreboding feeling suggested the latter—was the limit of his sight. The face, the head, remained hidden, and the man remained strangely unknown.

There was a momentary silence, as he felt the weight of the man's eyes upon him. He wanted to do something, but didn't know what. Perhaps, what he wanted was to strike out at this man, whom he was sure was responsible for the kidnap of Aryll and all of those other girls. Perhaps, he wanted to hide, or to hide something?

The man spoke, and the voice was a familiar one, deep and ominous: "Get rid of him."

Link was certain that he had heard that voice before, but _where_?

But, the bird flapped his wings, and the man was hidden from sight, and the bird pitched Link with its beak, far out into the sea, and he heard screaming. He was certain that it was he who screamed, but not only he. Another screamed with him. But, even as the water began to approach him—to grow closer, rather than further away, he found his consciousness fading, and, despite his efforts to remain focussed, he lost consciousness.


	3. Chapter Two: A Few Minor Setbacks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link makes an ally, and the acquaintance of Komali, the prince of the ritos.

**Chapter 2: A Few Minor Setbacks**

He had not expected to wake up, after having been thrown from such a height. Even less did he expect to wake, sitting up, on a strangely rocking surface. He slowly realised, observing the wood set in slats all around him, that he sat in a boat, and that that was why the ground beneath him was rocking. But, how had he come to be on this boat to begin with? Where was its owner, and who had rescued him?

The boat was small enough that it was readily apparent that he now sat alone in the middle of a tiny sailboat (he could see the rigging for a small mast), which left one location only for its projected owner—the sea itself. All around there were only open waters, with the occasional towering post (he later learnt that these were platforms for monsters to scout the seas), and, far distant, islands. This suggested that the owner should be in the water somewhere. The boat pitched as he leant over to check, and the prow of the ship, a curved stylised lion head, red as the rest of the boat, turned on its wooden neck to face him, and _spoke_.

"Ah, so you have awakened," said a deep voice, and it took Link a moment to realise that, yes, it was the boat that was talking to him. "Fear not. I am the King of Red Lions, and I have been watching you, ever since you came to the Forsaken Fortress. I it was who rescued you when the great bird threw you from its heights, and you have been unconscious for many days since. I have taken the liberty of helping you in your quest, and am bringing you to Windfall Island, where we will purchase some…essentials. There are many supplies you would do well to acquire before embarking on your quest—supplies you ought to have had before you entered the Forsaken Fortress to begin with—"

Link had some difficulty taking in all of this new information, and it was a good thing that none of it was terribly important. Until the boat had mentioned that he had been unconscious for several days, he hadn't noticed his great hunger, too lost in trying to orient himself, but now he felt it keenly. He might have introduced himself, or asked questions, but the King of Red Lions continued, pausing only to breathe (if boats needed to do such).

"Though there are many ships with more storied histories and greater size than I upon these seas, none have weathered more storms nor seen more of its area than I, and I have found none—there are none, indeed, that possess the power of speech."

A tall island approached, curiously seeming to spiral up, a bit like the shell of a snail. Link watched its approach, wondering if he dared to interrupt. The boat was still facing forward.

Link wondered, briefly, where its sail was, but the boat seemed to be moving at a remarkable speed even without one. But, what did he know? His grandmother had taken pains to keep him off ships, after the storm that lost him his parents.

"This is Windfall Island, a centre for trade and commerce. Here you will be able to find most any provisions you might need for your quest. You will need food, at the least, and, although it shames me to admit it… ah—although I possess the power of speech, I do not possess a _sail_. In these dangerous waters, speed is an invaluable asset. Purchase whatever supplies you must, but do not fail to acquire a sail! Did you understand everything I told you?"

Well, yes, he did, but that was hardly the end of it.

Link, overwhelmed with fear for his sister and for himself for four days, and given no chance to recover after, was at rather the last of his patience. And he was, therefore, a bit less polite than usual when he was given leave to speak.

"I _understood_ what you said well enough, except for a few crucial points. Who are you? Why can you speak? What _quest_ are you talking about? What do you mean, you've been watching me? Why should I follow you—?"

The boat had obviously not been raised to be polite. He sighed, bowing his head before turning back to interrupt Link, even as he pulled into a grotto—almost a bay, an inlet off the uninhabited wildness of the island (the fields of produce that were the island's supplies of crops). Link had been so busy listening that he had failed to notice the impending island, excited to finally visit the place of origin of his grandfather, but a bit overwhelmed nonetheless.

"I am the King of Red Lions, and I saw you as you approached the Fortress. I watched your progress from a distance, sitting in the waters to the east. You saw him, did you not? The man who rules that vile Fortress, with the evil feeling about him?"

Against his will, Link shuddered at the memory. Black robes, embroidered in red and gold at the hems and cuffs, with a high collar, and a scorching heat, as if he laid fertile ground waste all around him. Link _knew_ that this was whom the boat was speaking of.

The boat saw his reaction, and his voice, if possible, turned grimmer and more solemn than it had been before.

"They say that on Outset Island, there is still a legend told of the Hero of Time," said the boat, and a curious, hard edge entered his tone at the mention of the Legendary Hero. Link, who might otherwise have offered up his newfound knowledge of his lineage, heard the strange tone, and kept silent. Still, he noted the boat's tone with no small amount of curiosity, resolving to puzzle over it later. For now, he _listened_. "A young boy, clothed in green, rather like the clothes you wear, who acquired the Blade of Evil's Bane and sealed away a mighty evil, which returned, after the Hero's demise, and spread darkness throughout the kingdom—leading to its ruination."

Link's mouth went dry. He had a suspicion he knew whither this story tended, and knew that he wouldn't like it at all.

"That man, on the top of the Forsaken Fortress, is the same evil not vanquished by the Hero. His name…is Ganon. And, if you wish to save your sister, you will doubtless need to face him. So tell me, do you think that you have the courage needed to face even that man, if necessary?"

Link closed his eyes, refusing to be intimidated. He knew it for a fact, at this moment: he would do whatever it took to rescue Aryll. He hesitated only such a short time, to allow himself the opportunity to be truly honest with himself, to recognise his limitations, what he would have to overcome, and then gave a tight nod. He wasn't sure that he could speak yet.

"Then, you will need my guidance," said the Boat-That-Speaks. "And, I will gladly guide you, for I have sailed the seas for many long years, seeking for one with your strength of heart. Together, we _will_ rescue your sister. But first, the sail."

Link blinked at the sudden, abrupt change in tone, as the tension—the hanging importance strung in the air, dissipated.

"Buy whatever else you need, and then come back here, and I will take you to the first place we will need to go, and give you further instructions."

_He's not closed at all_, thought Link, with a certain amount of residual resentment burning off from his earlier frustration. It was hard to see the town and the fields all about, and not think of his grandfather, wondering if the man were still alive, still living on Windfall Island, anymore.

He was not one to dwell on the bad for long, nor to bear a grudge. He rather thought he might make an exception or two, for the evil man who had taken Aryll from him, but the circumstances there were quite extraordinary.

* * *

He leapt from the boat and into soft yellow sand, springy as moss, as much of the seashore. A natural arch led into the inlet on one side, and on the other, a trail led up into the farmlands. He could hear the mooing of cows, and the clucking of cuccos, and the contented snorting of pigs, like those that lived back on Outset. Wheat and oats grew higher up, and several other, less familiar grains, not in the books Sturgeon had shown him. Various types of trees grew throughout the island—some, doubtless fruit trees, grew arranged in rows, other, doubtless wild trees, grew in isolation, or occasionally clustered in groups. Most of the vegetables and fruit trees were in flower, and the air was filled with battling scents.

It was an odd, sharp counterpoint to his recent memories of fighting. At one side of the island—the side he mistakenly approached first, was a little quaint house on the promontory. He turned around, heading the other way, away from the head of the snail, and towards the shell, where terraced housing rose in a conical shape, forming the heart of the city.

There was a great archway for the main entrance, and a path leading up the three tiers of the heart of the city, a spiral ring surrounding an old windmill, which was in truth a combination windmill-lighthouse. The old lighthouse had burnt out its fire years ago, but still functioned otherwise. All it would have needed was a spark to set it once more lighting the night. The windmill only blew when the wind hit it the right way. Standing in one of the carriages for the Ferris wheel (the third function of the windmill), you could see for miles around, over the sea, over the city, with the view that the seagulls must be used to.

The buildings had been designed to open onto the spiral ramp leading up the outside, facing in towards the windmill-Ferris-wheel-lighthouse. There were three storeys, each built on top of the other. Beside the entrance was the apothecary, and then next him was the lowest storey of the house of the wealthiest man in town. Thanks to the lay of the town—which had been designed on a grid, and built all at once, added onto as needed—people sometimes owned a certain room, but not the rooms above or beneath. This was the case of the richest man in town, a man named Solvo, who owned land above Gillian's Café, but she owned the second storey, with the first standing vacant. A northman was eyeing this area hopefully, thinking of turning it into Windfall's first open-air shop. His name was Zunari, and he had an eye for business, and understood why Gillian had bought the space she had.

Next to Gillian's Café, a one-and-a-half storey arch in the wall led out to a three-way path. Straight ahead led to the graveyard, and to the left was a second path around the outside of the walls, which led also to City Hall, and the prison. To the right of the archway, a set of steps led down to the docks, a secondary port closer to town than the harbour, which was beside the fields. In short, it was the most used entryway to the city, though not the one Link used this time.

He spent some time wandering around Windfall, knowing that it was better to be thorough now, and perhaps spend a bit too much time, than die before he could rescue Aryll. He knew that, if he were completely honest to himself, he was hoping to find his grandfather, but the sheer scope of the Island soon began to wear him out. He visited a baker and a butcher, and a miller, wondering as he did what sort of food people brought with them while traveling, and, at last, finding a shop with rations for sailors.

No matter where he looked—even, in desperation, visiting a tailor—he could not find a sail, nor anything that would serve for one.

He did find a schoolteacher, who seemed to have an uncanny ability to _sense_ the joy pendants, as the butterfly pendants were called. She wasted a surprising amount of time, talking to him about the lucky joy pendants, and bokoblins, which came in several varieties: black, pink, green, with different skills for each colour. The prevailing wisdom said that they were joy pendants, turned into monsters by magic, which reverted to the true form when "slain". Link privately disagreed, suspecting that if that were the case, they would all leave joy pendants behind when defeated.

The teacher, Mrs. Marie, took a pendant without asking, on account of today being _her_ birthday (or, she admitted, close enough it), and, informing him that she would give him something truly worth his while if he returned with twenty joy pendants, sent him off.

Link at last, affected by the melancholy, perhaps, of the man sitting on the steps near the entryway to the city, wandered back down the city walk, pondering what should be done for a sail. He could think of nothing else for it but to go back to the King of Red Lions (and surely that boat had a shorter name!) and to report his failure.

Zunari's store caught his eye—it was a variety store, meaning that it sold predominantly decorative items—but he was intrigued by its bizarre owner, who wore a heavy coat lined with fur, wondering whence the man hailed.

On the way down the spiraling path, he walked past a house with a mounted image of a telescope or pictobox upon it. He had heard of pictoboxes even on Outset—a sort of telescope for storing and preserving images, and he recalled Aryll's enthusiasm for the idea. But, there was no good reason to go to such a place now. Perhaps after Aryll was rescued, and safely home, he could return.

For now, he continued on down the dirt-packed main square (or circle, rather), heading to the Northman's shop.

It was an indoor shop, for now, unlit and a bit gloomy. Link saw how the man wanted for funding, and admired, in a way, how easily the man pushed aside his own troubling situation to greet a potential customer.

"Hello, my dear friend, and welcome, welcome to my humble shop! Although it is not a shop quite yet, per se, is it? Oh, dear me, no! I am still saving up money to turn this into a truly admirable shop, but I'm still lacking in funds. You see, a few years ago, I set sail from my home in the north, looking to make my own way by opening a shop somewhere marvelous and beautiful, somewhere that would truly appreciate my talents. But, I was caught in a horrid storm, and lost most of the belongings I brought with me. All except the very last thing I brought with me to sell. Although they live on an island, the villagers seem to have little use for such a thing—I am quite surprised, but no one has been willing to buy it. And, for all its great quality, how well it weathered the storm, none of them have shown the slightest interest.

"But, you look like a man who knows a bargain. What do you think? Will you buy it from me? You seem like a seagoing man, and without it, I think you'll find it difficult to sail the seas. Despite its high quality, I am willing to part with it for a meagre seventy rupees! What a bargain! How exciting! What do you say?!"

Link paused. He was sure that the man, Zunari, was deliberately hiding what was being sold, doubtless hoping to increase the appeal for impulsive buyers and the curious. He couldn't readily justify just spending seventy rupees on something he didn't know what it was, but, at the same time, there were hints that maybe, just maybe, he had at last found what he was looking for. How many necessities did a ship have, after all? The King of Red Lions made it sound as if the only parts of a ship were the wooden area and the rigging (both of which each ship had as a necessity, as without which they could not be considered ships), and a sail. The pirate ship had been more complex, true, bur Zunari had no reason to assume that a boy coming into his shop owned a huge ship, and would likely assume that, if he owned one at all, it was a small, single-man crew vessel, like the shop ship that sometimes visited Outset.

But, that was assuming that Zunari assumed that he _had_ a ship, which was conveniently missing an integral part. Wouldn't it be more obvious to assume that Link had no ship at all? Perhaps, _that_ was what Zunari was selling—a boat. But, if that were the case, seventy rupees was more than a fair price. He had spent a small fortune already on food (at least fifty rupees) and wood was never not in demand in a city, where it could be used for construction, firewood, or furniture, among many other, more creative uses that didn't jump to mind.

Sail or boat, Zunari's offer looked good.

He pulled out three red rupees, and a yellow, wordlessly offering it to Zunari.

"Let me see it first," he said, closing his fist.

And, Zunari pulled out a seemingly square piece of cloth, with some design on it, going on as he did about the quality of the cloth, how good a deal this was, what a bargain. Link handed over the rupees and took the cloth.

"Ah, what a good choice, my dear! This is a northern sail, and my people make the finest sails in the world!"

Link hoped desperately he wasn't merely showing himself to be incredibly gullible, and that paying seventy rupees for a sail was reasonable.

With a soft, meaningless word to Zunari—something to the effect of "thank you", or "goodbye", or "whatever", Link folded the cloth up in his arms and walked back out of Zunari's store.

* * *

After a brief lesson from the boat himself on using a mast—taking down the sail, putting up the sail, adjusting the direction they were heading, and an admonition to pay attention to currents and the direction of the wind, Link and the King of Red Lions set out, heading east in silence. At the time, he did not find it suspicious that east was the direction in which they needed to head, and east was the direction of the wind. He was, however, somewhat surprised that he could _tell_, despite the weakness of the breeze, just which direction the wind blew in.

They traveled in utter silence, which surprised Link rather, as he had expected the King of Red Lions to keep up a constant conversation, asking questions to which Link didn't have the answers, or wouldn't be willing to give them. Or, perhaps, the boat would have gone on, again, about himself. (Link thought it rude not to use a masculine pronoun for a king; the pronoun "it" would sound as if the boat had no mind or feelings, which was plainly not the case.)

Instead, all around there was nothing but the crash of waves, and the cries of gulls, and the flapping of the sail. For a few hours, it had been very exciting. But then, mindful of the fact that he had been unconscious for most of the King of Red Lion's journey to Windfall, he fell asleep, certain that he would wake if anything of consequence happened.

The King of Red Lions let him sleep.

* * *

Towards noon of the next day, another, taller island came into sight, smaller in perimeter, but taller by far than Windfall. He stared at the island, which was strikingly beautiful, if imposing. It was covered in cliffs and ledges, he could tell even from a distance, but there was no sign of habitation that he could see.

The boat pulled up next the shore, almost within jumping distance of a pond. A series of natural platforms led up the cliff, up to a height where a tall cliff, inaccessible on account of giant boulders, blocked the way.

And all around were mysterious blue spherical objects—the fruits or flowers of plants, he soon realised—and they grew in the greener areas, looking somehow familiar. He would swear that he had seen these flowers before. Somewhere.

Before he could give too much thought to them, the King of Red Lions broke into his musings.

"This is Dragon Roost Island, home of the ritos," he said, something like pride in his voice. Link, for his part, remembered Quill, and the man's offer of aid. "They are a race that rose up in the wake of the Great Flood, and now live high on clifftops, when before, it is said, they lived underwater. You would know them best as the postmen, who unfailingly deliver to you your mail. They are led by their chieftain, a strong leader, and a wise man. His name is unknown to me; I have had little traffic with ritos, over the years. I do know, however, that he is a benevolent ruler, and just. I'm sure he will be willing to help us.

"The ritos are, further, guided by their benefactor, the sky spirit known as Valoo. Perhaps you saw him, as we approached, sitting in a nest at the very pinnacle of the island. I am unsure who possesses the object you must acquire, but, when last I had any news of the island, it was still in the possession of the sky spirit, Valoo.

"The object you must acquire from him is a relic of great power known as _Din's Pearl_. It is a symbol of power and might, a hallmark of great rulers. They will doubtless not part with it lightly. Speak to the chieftain, and I am sure that he will help you."

Link stood, leapt from the boat, and was just about to head up the hill when the boat spoke again.

"Wait one moment more. I have something for you."

He reached back, and his jaws strained to close on something that hadn't been there before. He then threw the something, which Link saw first as a small white stick. He caught it, and stared. It tapered to a dull point on one side, and the other curved with exquisite decoration. Link stared at it, and then back to the King of Red Lions.

"This is the Wind Waker, an old relic of the forgotten kingdom. In the old days, the people used to use this baton to guide their prayers to the gods. It is a conductor's baton, however, and, forgive me if I jump to conclusions, but you are not musically trained. Perhaps, however, you could learn. Pay attention."

And the King of Red Lions explained how to use the baton. It was a complicated process, involving Link's dominant left hand being used to guide the notes of the melody, and the right one guiding the time signature. Four four time was expected without guidance, but three-four and six-four times required pointing to left and right.

Pointing in one of six different directions with his left hand instructed the wind on what note to hum. It was a lot to remember.

When the King of Red Lions had checked to make sure that he knew and remembered all of the instructions on how to use the conductor's baton, he explained why he had given the thing to Link to begin with.

"It is said that, in the back of this island, there is a shrine to two of the wind gods. Before we depart from this place, you would do well to seek their favour at the shrine. The baton, the Wind Waker, will come in useful for this. Now, go and acquire Din's Pearl!"

* * *

With his usual drama, the King of Red Lions sent Link off. Link wondered, briefly, if the boat wouldn't merely forsake him, leaving him here to go about his business, but reassured himself swiftly that this was merely anxiety at the quest before him at work.

Now, he set himself to trying to find a way to the top of the cliff, which, as he could see from the shore, had a door set into the hillside leading up.

Unfortunately, there were huge boulders all around. But, there was something about those flowers….

He knew what they reminded him of. He had seen some of these very flowers aboard the pirate ship. Niko had told him that they were loaded into the canons, because they were explosive. They were cured, somehow, when they were picked, lest they explode prematurely, but the untreated flower would naturally begin to burn at the stem of the flowers, until the stem was used up, and it reached the flower itself, whereupon it would explode.

It was not that confusing of an idea.

He picked up a flower, snapping off the stem, and a hissing noise filled the air. He threw the bomb flower at a rock, and it landed nearby. He watched as the stem burnt down, and then the bomb flower exploded.

The boulder exploded too. Beneath it, someone's ten-rupee piece had been lost, presumably for as long as the boulder had been there. He picked up the money, and found the next nearest bomb flower.

He changed his mind about the ten-rupee piece being someone's money when he found a ten-rupee piece under the next boulder, and the next, and the next. Instead, he suspected that it was an organically made rupee lodged in a matrix of boulder. This was something of a relief to his conscience.

* * *

He continued, making his way to the cliff, which was broken in half, with the two halves connected by a strange-looking decorated block.

At the other end of the doorway, he saw a familiar looking rito, standing by a balcony surrounded by a wooden rail. The rito had long white hair, swept back in an updo, and cornrow bangs framing his face. Link had only ever met one rito before, and had no way of knowing how similar they looked to one another, or whether or not Quill's hairstyle was unique, or quite common. Nevertheless, he thought he might take a chance, of addressing this one by his name.

The rito turned as he approached, almost as if sensing him, and briefly leant backwards, as if taken aback.

"You have traveled far for one with no wings," said the rito who was probably Quill. "Welcome, Link, to Dragon Roost Island, the home of us ritos. Have you rescued your sister, yet?"

At this, Link hung his head, and turned away, unable to speak for shame. Quill understood.

"I see. Then, I will remind you of my offer before. The chieftain is a good man, of great compassion. I am sure that he will be willing to help you. I will go before you and prepare them for your arrival."

He began to flap his wings, which appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Thank you, Quill," Link said, with a bow, and Quill took off, flying past a wooden path hugging the side of the mountain, over the sea surprisingly far below, and to a slightly more elevated second balcony, this one, as with the path connecting the two balconies, surrounded by a wooden rail. There must have been a door hidden from sight, because Quill walked towards the mountain, and entered it.

Link hastened to follow, wary of the sturdy-sounding, but worn-out looking, wooden boards of the path. He wished, again quite vainly, that he were able to fly.

At the other balcony, set into the rock of the mountain, was another archway. Link wondered if there were a hidden door, somewhere in the rock, or how they dealt with inclement weather, or the threat of attack, if there weren't.

He didn't know that, in times of war, the blocks of the cliff were jammed into the wall to hinder groundbound invaders. Then, too, there were doors hidden in the walls of the mountain, walls for each of its many entrances, but, as the main occupation of the ritos was as postmen, the constant traffic encouraged them to keep the doors constantly open.

He entered a tall chamber, with a spiral ramp heading around the edge of the room, leading to a front desk, and the post office. There was also a storage room up there, and a door that led to the chieftain's quarters, and the two bickering brother guards, Skett and Akoot, whom he would meet presently, and a guard named Hokit, whom Link also would meet soon.

But, for now, he focused on the lower storey, where Quill seemed to be arguing with another rito, one with white hair smoothed down to the top of his head, and falling in ringlets on all sides, except over his face. This rito was very distinctive, wearing a long red robe, with gold embroidery, and green sleeves. There was an air of stern authority to the man.

Link wondered what argument he had interrupted, but heard only a few sentences which made no sense to him, before they realised that he had arrived.

"—but I promised Link Sylvanus that we would help him rescue his sister," said Quill, sounding agitated. The man who must be the rito chieftain responded,

"I'm sorry, Quill, but with the Great Valoo angry, appeasing him must be our first concern. Medli might be able to discern what it is that has angered him, but she is a child, and may be one of the last to receive Valoo's blessing. I cannot risk the life of his attendant. And, Komali grows difficult. This was to be such an exciting time for him, before this happened. It's far too dangerous as it is, and there is little we can afford to give in the way of help…."

And here, they seemed to realise that he was there, listening to them.

"My lord, this is Link Sylvanus, whom I told you about," Quill said, bowing to the chieftain.

"Link, I'm sorry you had to hear that. As you heard, we cannot help you. There is quite a crisis going on for us right now. We depend upon Valoo to give us the ability to fly, but he is now angry, and the winds are behaving erratically as a result, and boulders falling from the sky, both of these making wind travel difficult. As long as this is the case, the entire island, and our very way of life, is in danger. Please understand that this must be our priority."

Link found himself moved by pity at the plight of the people around him, especially thinking of the generosity of Quill, who had so earnestly defended him and offered aid.

"Is there anything I could do to help?" he asked. The Pearl was not what he was thinking about. That could wait, but these people might die if something did not happen soon, and any little thing that he could do to help was something someone else didn't have to. Maybe, then, the ritos could focus on the problem at hand.

The rito chieftain hesitated, and sighed.

"Such a generous lad. I regret that we cannot help you, but please, hear my story before embroiling yourself in the difficulties of our affairs.

"We ritos are able to fly only because of the generous gift, when each of us reaches adulthood, of a scale from the great sky god Valoo. The Great Valoo is an ancient dragon who has lived on the top of this mountain for as long as anyone can remember, and he is both wise and patient. He has protected our race for as long as we have been around, giving us these scales, which imbue us with the magic to grow wings, and to carry ourselves on the winds. It is the only way we would be able to.

"I have only one son, my heir, Prince Komali, who is of the age to receive his wings. Indeed, it should have happened already. But, a couple of days before Komali's birthday, the Great Valoo roared with a terrible rage, and the winds began to act erratically, and boulders to fall from the skies, burning hot and covered in flame. The lakebed that supports the bomb flowers beyond yonder doorway dried up, its spring plugged with one such boulder, and the heat of the volcano within our mountain dried it up. The bridge, too, was broken, and there is now no way for one with no wings to enter the Cavern with the path leading to Valoo. A child with no wings could not hope to even enter the Cavern. Naturally, we have done everything we can think of to restore access, but it is a very dangerous area, and the unpredictable wind currents make it more hazardous still. This may be the end of the rito way of life, and indeed the end of our entire race.

"Komali does not see this, trapped as he is in his own misery. Compounding the problem is the recent death of his grandmother, my mother-in-law, the attendant of the great Valoo before Medli, who taught her to understand what he says. Medli, a child herself, is now the only one able to understand him, but I will not risk her life until it is clear that there is no other option. But, you see the situation that this has left Komali in."

The rito chieftain sighed heavily, and Link pitied the man, who seemed overwhelmed by the many conflicting forces at work upon his people. He pondered if the chieftain would ask him to enter the Cavern and see what he could learn, but then, quickly, dismissed the idea. He was unwilling to risk the life of children before he must. Doubtless, this even applied to would-be heroes. Then, what did the chieftain want from him? The answer was disappointing.

"Quill has told me of your great courage in your current venture. I know that it is quite a lot to ask of you, but would you speak with and reassure Komali? I have done what I can, but I am very busy with this crisis, and am not there for him as much as I would like. There are very few children around his age in whom he could confide, and he has always been…a bit weak-spirited, shall we say. Please, Link, will you share your courage with my son?"

Link was touched by what he had heard, and moved to pity and sympathy. His coming-of-age ceremony, too, had been ruined, and perhaps their similarities in stories would reassure Komali that the entire venture was not necessarily lost. He bowed.

"I would be honoured to assist your son," he said, as formally as he could manage, and the rito chieftain gave a weary sigh, while Quill gave Link a nod of approval. Link had almost forgotten Quill was still there, and still listening.

"Then please, give the letter I have written to him. The girl, Medli, will give it to you. You will find her in my quarters, in half an hour. She is quite distinctive, as few female ritos live on this island, and she, like Komali, is about your age—not to speak of her hair. And, you will want this," he added, handing over a cloth messenger bag before Link could ask what, exactly, was so special about Medli's hair. Link took the bag, and then opened his mouth to speak, but the chieftain beat him to it. "I know that we have little hospitality to offer you, as befits a guest, but feel free to look about this island. Perhaps, you will see some sign of hope that we have missed."

With that, the rito chieftain beat his wings, lifting off the packed dirt floor, and flying to the second-storey room that Link realised must belong to him. Quill came over to put a hand upon Link's shoulder, in apology and solidarity, he was sure.

"It is good of you to offer us assistance even when we cannot do the same for you. I will prevail upon the chieftain, to see if he can't spare a little time to hear your tale."

And with a bow, Quill followed the chieftain to the second-storey room.

* * *

Link found himself contemplating what connection the chieftain and Quill had. They seemed to speak and behave informally around one another, and had similar faces, and even hairstyles. It might be nothing, of course, or Quill might be the chieftain's brother, and therefore a sort of prince, and Komali's uncle. Link weighed the plausibility versus the implausibility of a mailman-prince as he wandered the mountain structure, idly looking for a way to occupy his half-hour.

He soon learnt that the prince had his suites down in at the end of a twisting hallway below the room he had first entered. There were a few other suites, branching off this one, for the other children of a king, but the only son, and prince, had the suites behind the door that lay at the very end of the hall.

Link did not trouble himself with going all the way down there. Instead, he walked up the ramp, passing helpful postal workers as he did, noticing that the doors to the chieftain's suites were right of the doors at the top of the curving ramp, by which Link had entered.

Up ahead, at a second entrance, an inattentive guard muttered under his breath about golden feathers, and how he was going to get some for his girlfriend. Link wondered how good of a guard the man could be, driven to such distraction.

This guard, Hokit, kept watch over the door leading to the dried-up lake.

Not much further beyond him, at the end of the path, was a desk, behind which stood a rito wearing the same brown uniform as Quill, as far as Link could tell before the desk hid it from view. He had a square face, messy white hair, and tired, half-closed red eyes. Behind him was a series of boxes with letters in them, arranged next to and on top of one another in a lattice, each with a tiny image in the centre of the bottom of the lip of the box, and the same symbol above, much larger, in the shadowy recesses of the back. Two piles of letter stood before him, one without labels, but the other showed that he was in the process of placing seals with just the same images upon the letters.

Link was beginning to realise that all ritos seemed to have the same hair, with its tendency to be put into cornrows, and the same red eyes, but the shapes of eyes, faces, beaks, and mouths varied as much as with any human.

He noted, somewhere, that Quill looked quite similar to the rito chieftain, at least compared to the man before him.

Beyond the main desk, the path ended in a storage room, the centre of operations. A quick glance within showed that it was filled with letters, and boxes of what he presumed to be more letters. He began to marvel that any of his own had ever arrived in a timely manner. Did people send that much mail?

Link considered going back down the ramp, after this, tiptoeing past the tired-looking rito stamping letters lest he distract him, but when he came to the door guarded by Hokit, the rito devoted to collecting twenty golden feathers to give to his girlfriend, he hesitated. He was sure that he could get past without the guard knowing about it, and he was curious as to the true state of affairs of the rito chiefdom.

He took care to listen for signs that the rito was aware of his passage as he crept down the corridor leading to outside.

* * *

Here, Link at last understood what the chieftain had said. Scorching embers mercilessly blasted against him, and he wondered that his clothes didn't catch fire. By watching the paths of the embers, he could _see_ that the wind never blew in the same direction for more than a few seconds before changing direction. North, west, south, east, south, east, north. Never before had he been able to track the progress of the wind with such ease, with just his eyes.

He fingered the baton that the King of Red Lions had given to him, drawing it out of his pocket, unthinking, wondering if the voices he had thought that he had conducted when the King of Red Lions had instructed him would even listen out here. At length, he put the baton into his messenger bag, and then rolled the bag up to protect it from damage, before shoving it into his pocket, with the joy pendants.

Looking to his left, he saw several dried-up bomb flowers. Apparently, not even such hardy flowers as these could stand the heat of the embers, the scorching wind that beat punishingly against Link's clothes, and, sometimes, the bare skin of his face. He walked the short path to the bridge that had once provided a way for the wingless to reach the Cavern. The boulder caught his eyes as he went. Leaning over to examine it more closely, he noticed that it was very smooth, almost artificial looking, and that it was lying in a pool of what water was able to seep up into the impact crater. He wondered if the bomb flowers were too dried up to save.

Between the two sides of the once-bridge were the ropes and slats still hanging down into what would once have been an impressive lake. Link noticed a rock, fairly sturdy, but too far away for him to jump from it to the other side of the broken bridge. He wondered why he didn't see any ritos around, coming or going from the maw of a cave, over beyond the fire pit with two temple statues holding up bowls of offerings, and slightly healthier looking bomb flowers.

* * *

At length, having gone over every plan he could think of, he went back inside.

By now, it must have been at least half an hour. He crept past the guard, who was no longer muttering about feathers, and whose nod in his direction suggested Link hadn't been quite as sneaky as he'd hoped,

For the first time, he entered the chieftain's personal quarters, which was guarded by two ritos with updos, wearing white robes with green cuffs. This was the entrance room to the chieftain's suites, and was sparsely furnished. He appeared to be using it as some sort of office. There was a desk, and a chair, and a few cupboards, and the occasional decorative statue, or picture, but that was all.

Standing near the desk, in the middle of the room, where she would be hard to miss, was a girl with long red hair—almost chestnut brown, almost auburn, but still obviously red— wearing a black dress, with a red stole, and a red decorative cloth hanging down, embroidered in gold. If it weren't for the talons she had for feet, and her bright red eyes, and the curved beak of a nose, he would not have thought her a rito.

She turned to face him as he approached, but waited until he was before her to do anything else.

"Hello," she said, "are you Link?"

Her tone was distracted, as if she were thinking about something else, something far more important than mere pleasantries of introductions.

Link nodded, saying, "That I am. And, you must be Medli."

There was a moment's silence, and then Link continued, trying not to sound impatient, "The chieftain said that you had a letter for me to give to his son."

At this, Medli clasped her hands together, holding them at her sides in an awkward position, looking down. She didn't seem to be injured, so perhaps she was just shy.

"Before I give the letter to you," she said, still looking down, "I wanted to ask you a favour." Now, she raised clasped hands up towards her face as if in an attitude of prayer. "Would you meet me down in the dry lakebed, you know—the one at the end of the passage guarded by the man always talking of golden feathers?"

"I know what place you mean," said Link, slowly. "But, why—?"

"There's no time, and this isn't the place to talk about it! Please, just meet me there after you speak with Komali." She leant in closer to him, forcing him to rethink the idea that she were merely shy, and whispered. "I have a plan that might help Prince Komali, but the chieftain would never approve."

Somewhere in his mind, he registered that she had called Komali by his name, without a title, as if a slip of the tongue. Was she a very close friend of the prince, perhaps? Link was beginning to feel nervous about his upcoming task.

"I don't know how long this will take," he began, and held up his hand to forestall her interruption, "but I promise that I will come. Give me an hour, at least."

Medli handed over the letter, with a bow and profuse expression of thanks, and Link smiled.

"Anything I can do to help," he said, attempting to be reassuring.

He turned to go, and Medli held up a hand, waving at him, and said, "Komali's room is—"

"At the end of the hall, at the bottom of the stairs leading down. I know. But, thank you, Medli."

"No—thank _you_," said Medli, in a whisper, as he left. His sharp ears still caught her words, however, and he smiled. At least he might be able to help someone today.

* * *

But, Komali would not be placated. After a while of looking into several other lavishly furnished rooms of Komali's suites, each with the same strange design of three round circles arranged on a triangle, with something like a stylised tree forming a border around them (so different from the triple triangles of Outset) he finally found the prince.

Link opened the door to Komali's bedroom, to be greeted by a scowl from the boy sitting on the vast bed. He had a glimpse of round red eyes narrowed in suspicion, and hair arranged much like the chieftain's, before the boy twisted his entire body away, hugging some bright orange orb close as he did, as if Link were not permitted even to catch sight of it.

Link, for his part, was a bit offended, but mostly confused. Perhaps it was the chieftain's ignorance of human anatomy versus rito anatomy, but he doubted Komali and he were anything like the same age. Komali was much shorter, and smaller, even in his white tunic. (Didn't Grandma say that white made rooms look bigger? Wasn't it the same for people?)

The bright orange orb immediately caught the eyes, both for its striking colour and the unfortunate teal lining of Komali's tunic creating a sharp contrast. Komali was sitting huddled over the orb, which he had moved to his right side to take it even further out of sight. He looked, and acted, rather like a petulant preteen. Like Aryll, perhaps, on one of her bad days.

Thoughts of his sister, and his quest, softened the set of Link's face. He realised that he hadn't knocked, or given the prince any reason not to fear him. So what if Komali were only about Aryll's age? He knew her mind, and remembered well enough how being ten or twelve had been.

"I'm sorry. I should have knocked. Your father sent me with a message for you. I'm Link, by the way."

Komali didn't respond, unless it were the expectant hand, reaching for the letter. Link hastened to dig into the messenger bag, wondering how Komali could read a message and support the mysterious orb at the same time.

Link could see the corners of Komali's mouth turn down into a deep pouting frown even before the letter, sealed in its pristine ivory envelope, was in his hands.

"Don't look at the Pearl. It's a gift from my grandmother. She gave it to me to look after, and I'm not letting some stranger just walk in and look at it. It's all I have of hers."

Link wanted to say that he understood, but correctly suspected that that would not be taken well by Prince Komali. He averted his eyes as best he could, onto his boots.

He felt Komali's watchful eyes remain on him for a moment, before Komali tore open the letter, and his eyes began to skim over the words of the page. Link waited, his patience beginning to fray, watching Komali's frown deepen, his eyes narrow, the glare become prominent on his face. At length, he threw the letter to the side, and Link couldn't stand back and watch anymore.

"That's quite rude, you know," he began, but Komali was having none of it.

"Says the boy who entered the private quarters of a royal without bothering to knock. You'd be angry, too. 'Be strong', he says. 'Be brave', he says. 'A true ruler must face hardship without complaint, with courage'. And then, you're mentioned, too. He talks about how _brave_ you are, how noble your quest is. But, I don't see a brave man. I see a weakling who hasn't even proven himself yet. He doesn't know _what_ he can do. How do you think it is for me, that my father likes you, a stranger he's just met, that he thinks better of _you_ than his own son?"

Link had been keeping quiet, thinking it best to let Prince Komali rant, but this was entering dangerous territory. "He doesn't like me better—"

"Then why did he give the letter to you? Couldn't even take time out of his busy schedule to come speak to me himself, could he? No, the only comfort I have is the Pearl. _That's_ what I look to for comfort and strength. Where's my father, who would be my guide? He's not there! Gone! Well, at least I'm talking to you, as he asked!"

Link noted that Komali again used the word, "Pearl", to describe the orange ball he had been holding, and _wondered_…. Could it be?

"You know, your father does love you," he said, trying to keep calm and civil, knowing that yelling would only make things worse, and Grandma had raised him to be polite, after all. "And, that is why he is too busy to see you right now. He's working hard to solve the crisis at hand, to help _you_. You are at the forefront of his thoughts. You're lucky. I wish my father had been around, even to give me letters."

A twinge of something flickered across Komali's face. For just a second, the narrowed eyes widened, the mouth opened, the jaw slacked, but then he was back to his glare as if it had never gone.

"_Lucky_?" repeated Komali. But, he seemed to have cooled down, a little. "My grandmother was the best woman in the world. She was the attendant of Valoo _and_ Din, spoke the old language fluently, and even won the birdman competitions once or twice. It was really hard, losing her. But, when I hold this Pearl, I remember how strong and brave _she_ was, and it helps me try to be more like her. But, me just bearing through it with resolve isn't going to open the path to Dragon Roost Cavern. Father says you're _so_ brave. Well, I'll tell you what. You find me _someone _brave enough to enter the Cavern and _do_ something about the problem, and I'll consider listening to you then."

Link was barely listening. The words "Din" and "Pearl" were connecting in his mind, and he bit back a smile that wanted to be a bitter laugh. All along, it had been Komali's goodwill he had needed, not the chieftain's. But, how could he ever convince Komali to give up so precious of a memento?

"Look, Komali," he said, trying to shove thoughts of the Pearl aside. "I know how tough it is to lose those you care about. I barely had a chance to know my parents, never knew my grandfathers, and my sister Aryll was recently kidnapped, which is why I came here to begin with, seeking after Din's Pearl…."

"'Din's Pearl', eh?" said Komali, a shrewd look entering his narrowed eyes. Link hadn't meant to say that. "I tell you what: maybe I can find the Pearl for you if you find someone who can reopen the passage."

Link didn't know how he could possibly get up to the cliff that led to the entrance to the Cavern, nor how he might prevail upon Valoo to cease from his anger, but he still resolved to be the one to answer Komali's challenge.

If he could just get into the Cavern, he felt strangely assured that he would be able to handle whatever dangers it might hold. The ropes and slats of the bridge hung down into the dried up lakebed. But, it had broken such that there was more of the bridge in the near cliff than the far one. Perhaps, if he jumped, as high as he could, he could reach some of the bottommost rungs. It did not seem plausible.

Still, he held the idea out as his only means thus far of getting to the Cavern. Perhaps, he ought to ask some of the rito for advice, but he could think of no way to do this without the risk of them figuring out his intentions. Would any of them willingly go against the chieftain's orders?

"Komali," he said, carefully, "I would be willing to go myself, but I don't know how."

Komali barely responded at all. After all, talk was cheap. Link could say whatever he would, but until Komali saw that he would put meaningful actions to his words, Komali would disbelieve him.

"Perhaps, you understand why I'm so upset _now_?" he asked, still holding the Pearl out of Link's sight. Link sighed; he'd known all along how Komali felt, but there was no convincing the rito prince of that. He was determined to suffer on his own.

There passed a few minutes of awkward silence, the challenge clearly hanging in the air of the room with them. Link thought with furious fervour, trying to find a way to force Komali to see reason, some way to get him to listen. But, he could think of nothing, and as time passed, he became more and more aware of Medli, waiting outside for him.

He left, with a bow and a smile to the rito prince. Komali did not return any sort of gesture or word.


	4. Chapter Three: The Meaning of Courage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link in Dragon Roost Cavern. And before. And after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because it's Hallowe'en, and I'm fonder of chapter four than perhaps I should be, strictly speaking.

**Chapter 3: The Meaning of Courage**

He made his way, past all of the fancy wooden furniture in the suites, and then through long and twisted corridors, and thence, through confusing corridors to get to the hall that led to the stairs. He climbed the shallow main staircase, with its steps extended over a distance. Then, he walked along the right side of the ramp, as there was a mailman walking down the outer edge. At the top of the ramp, he again noticed Hokit, muttering to himself about feathers. Link already knew that there was no sense in trying to sneak past, and decided to try a different tack.

"Hello," he said, interrupting the rito's mutterings with a fake smile, hands on his hip as he watched the rito lift his head from where it was bowed in thought. "My name is Link Sylvanus, and although I came here in the hopes of a solution to a problem of my own, I couldn't help overhearing that you have a problem."

"Hokit, here," the guard said, and, for reasons Link couldn't begin to guess at, he straightened, and raised a hand as if to salute, before thinking better of it. "And, well, yes, I do have a _bit_ of a problem. You see, my girlfriend, in the Seven Star Archipelago, well, she's a real trendsetter, you know.

"Anyway, there are these birds called _kargarocs_ all over the Great Sea, but they like the archipelagos. They're pretty big birds, half the size of a human, maybe, and they're mostly black, with white-tipped wings, and golden tail feathers. And those feathers… man, my girlfriend found one of those on the beach one time, and now she wants to _make_ something out of a bunch of them, says it will be a new fashion trend in no time, but she needs a whole bunch of those feathers. Kargarocs are around here, too, but I'm on indoor guard duty when they're around. She wrote me, 'cause she knows my job, asking if I couldn't get her some, and if I don't she'll think I'm a loser or a liar, y'know? The kargarocs are only out in the middle of the day, and they perch high up, and I'm stuck in here. It's quite the dilemma."

Link listened intently, thinking about the situation, and understanding the guard's frustration. What else was there to do, as an indoor guard, but stand and worry the problem around in his mind all day?

Valoo, he remembered, lived high up. He wondered if he mightn't encounter kargarocs, if he ever enter the Cavern, and make his ascent. And, hadn't Medli said that she had a plan?

"That's pretty tough," Link agreed. But, before Hokit could jump in with a pointless comment—he was leaning forwards to make just such a comment; it was a very, I _know, right_ kind of a look—Link said,

"Look. I'm going to be traveling all over the Great Sea as part of the quest that brought me here. How about I keep an eye out for those feathers for you, and bring them back when I find them, or gather enough?"

The rito looked momentarily stunned, running his hands through his white updo. "Really? You'd do all that to help me? Quill was right; you're alright. Okay, kid! If you find enough feathers for my girlfriend, I'll find some way to pay you for them. Y'got that? Of course, I'll believe it when I see that you've actually got some, but it's nice to have a potential backup plan, at the very least."

Link nodded, trying not to be irritated at the man's lack of faith in him, just like Komali's. Komali was right. That was the worst part. These people had no reason to believe in him. All he'd done thus far was fail.

_Then I must fix that fact_, he told himself firmly as he walked down the corridor, into bright sunlit still dimmed through a haze of embers. He remembered Medli's bare skin and winced. How tough was the humanoid skin of a rito?

Worse, when he climbed down the makeshift ladder rungs formed by the planks of the bridge, he found Medli in the open, standing on the strange rock jutting out of the lakebed floor, roughly halfway between the two halves of the bridge. She turned when he approached, as she had in the chieftain's room, but she didn't seem horribly burnt, or in a great amount of pain. He assumed that a people living near a volcano might have some natural defences from heat, and let the matter rest.

"You _did_ come," said Medli, clasping her hands in front of her again, in an awkward sort of position that made it clear how uncomfortable the situation was for her. Link wondered how he could help her, but couldn't think of anything, since he didn't know exactly what was wrong. Probably, she was worried about being caught, outside, in the space that the chieftain had decided that it was too dangerous for a child to go to. Or, since Medli was considered an adult, a place too dangerous for the a_ttendant of Valoo_ to go to.

"How was Komali?" she asked next, her attention suddenly riveted upon Link, as she leant forwards, ignoring any embers that made contact with her skin as she did. "Was he alright?"

Link hesitated, wondering how he ought to respond, and Medli slumped.

"Well, er, he didn't seem injured," Link said, and wished that he could split himself in two. He would do it if only so that he could raise an incredulous eyebrow in his own direction. He knew full well what Medli meant, and knew that Medli knew that he knew. What then was achieved with such a cautious, worthless reply? She deserved better, surely, this brave woman who was the only one on the Island to dare to take the initiative. "It's just… I think he feels a bit overwhelmed, and very sad, and the two put together…."

What ensued was an attempt to explain just how Komali had acted, in an unbiased way that allowed Medli to feel that she decided on her own how Komali was doing.

"Oh dear," she said, most awkwardly, playing with her hands, near her face, she clasped them together, again, and began to wring them. "That doesn't sound like Komali at all. He's usually such a sweet, shy, boy. This must be so hard for him."

"Then, let's make it easier," Link swiftly continued, eager to avoid the topic of Komali, and what they might have spoken of.

Medli nodded, and her hands moved to the side (to her left), and came unclasped.

"I had a favour I wanted to ask of you," said Medli, again, setting her chin, as if what she were going to ask was very dangerous, and that was undeniably true, at the very least if she ended up visiting an angry dragon, to calm him down. "Do you see up there, ahead of us, the other side of the bridge? There is no way an ordinary man could get there. Luckily for us, my people know how to fly. I got my own wings a matter of months ago (about half a year), but I'm not that good of a flier yet. As the attendant of Valoo, I spend much of my time on remote cliffs, practising this harp, and studying the information Komali's grandmother taught me. I hope to learn it all by heart."

He wondered why the girl had brought what looked to be a delicate musical instrument with her, but didn't ask. Doubtless, she had sworn some sort of oath to never be parted from it. He glanced at the harp, noticing that it was a hand harp, with a brass face on it, but otherwise made of wood. It was probably about the size of her head, but somehow looked heavy. But for a delivery bag full of unknown objects and that harp, Medli carried nothing. She pulled it off her back when she mentioned it, and then swiftly put it back on her back afterwards. She was also speaking with great haste, as if she might otherwise lose her nerve.

"What I want you to do, is to pick me up, and throw me up onto that bridge. While I'm not a very good flier, I can maintain my altitude well enough that I could probably make it if you threw me while standing on top of this rock. It does seem rather providentially placed, don't you think?"

Link shrugged, noticing how much calmer Medli seemed, now that the burden of her plan had shifted onto him. She pulled out a jar of water, and drank from it. Link looked at the jar of water, and his eyes narrowed, already wondering just how hardy bomb flowers were, and how much water they needed.

"Are you sure? These winds are very strong and unpredictable. I might hurt you."

But, Medli set her jaw, and climbed to the top of the rock, crouching down. The bottle of water was still in her hand.

"I'm sure I couldn't hit the wall _too _hard," she said, trying too hard to reassure.

Link wanted to point out how much ire he risked receiving from the chieftain if he were caught, but Link was, at least, not a rito, and therefore not _really_ subject to his laws. The chieftain's efforts to protect the few might end up killing their entire race, if nothing were done to fix things.

"If you wish for me to assist you in getting to the entrance of the Cavern, I have a favour I also wish to redeem. Please, if you have no pressing use for it, may I have one of your bottles of water?"

She gave him an odd sort of look, obviously wondering what use he would make of such an ordinary thing. But, empty bottles were a commodity it had never occurred to him to buy, especially as few things were packaged in them. He had nothing to put any water he might want to use for watering the bomb flowers in. She handed over the bottle, which was all of clear glass, as was usual with bottles, with a screw on lid.

Link formed a natural sort of seat by spreading apart his arms, and he scooped his arms under Medli, blushing again at the thought of how uncomfortable the idea of carrying a woman this way was, hoping he could be forgiven the offence to her dignity and the violation of her personal space. He watched the embers carefully, not trusting whatever sense he seemed to have for the direction of the wind, but instead trusting that Medli would be carried on the current in the same direction as the embers. When the embers were at his back, and none stung his face, he threw her, and ungainly, huge wings spread out from nowhere, flapping heavily to try to keep her airborne.

She glided over to the other side of the cliff, to the top of the bridge area, in safety, after she regained a good sense of control over her own body. When she safely had both of her betaloned feet on the floor, her wings seemed to shrink, and then to disappear. She turned around to face him again when they had gone, thanking him for his help, and urging him not to worry about her, but rather to look after Komali.

Instead, Link eyed the bottle of spring water. It was still mostly full, which would save him the time of filling it from the small pool of water around the rock blocking the spring. He stuffed the closed bottle into his pocket, along with the mailbag, pondering how little room those items seemed to take up as he did.

He climbed up the ladder, and, surreptitiously making sure the rito guard's back was still turned—although he couldn't see what crime might be in watering bomb flowers—he came over to the patch of bomb flowers near the door, analysing the texture and colour. They seemed a bit off-colour, but still with a lot of the soft moisture of healthy leaves. Not too dry, then. He poured out a bit of the water on each of the plants, and waited as it sank in.

To his surprise, there was an almost immediate difference. The shrunken, shriveled flowers expanded and smoothed, turning from purple to black, and the leaves regained a fiery red hue. Link, mindful of the fact that there might be more bomb flowers on the other side of the bridge, or else some other need for spring water, refilled his bottle, and reclimbed the makeshift ladder, snapping off a bomb flower at the stem, and carefully judging the angle that the bomb would have to hit, to reduce the boulder blocking the spring to so much rubble.

He let fly, knowing that he only had five chances at this, but his aim was dead on, and he belatedly ducked behind the fencepost to avoid any flying debris. There was none. The rock exploded, and the trapped water erupted from its prison, briefly bursting out a steady geyser that rained water down all around, soaking Link, and the bomb flowers on both sides of the cliff, and still more water bubbled up from the spring, even after the geyser subsided. It rushed back up into the empty lakebed, covering the rock on which Link had stood to throw Medli, rising until it rode high up the slats of the bridge. The slats now provided a reliable climb into and out of the pool. The plan had worked. Still, he was surprised about the explosive force of the water. He hoped he hadn't caught anyone's attention, and was glad that he had waited to enact his plan until Medli had entered the Cavern.

He swam easily across the lake, pulling himself out of the water on the other side to find a clump of bomb flowers which had recovered during the brief artificial rainstorm.

Then, before him was a patch of molten rock. Two statues, one on the left hand wall, the other on the right-hand wall, held bowls of offerings. He looked at the bomb, and then he looked at the altar. The bowl and bomb were of similar size. He wondered if, perhaps, this were not merely a part of the test that every wingless rito was made to endure.

He threw a bomb each into each of the two statues, which fell over when the bomb exploded, providing passage, of a sort, across the pool of molten rock. He continued along the narrow passage, until it opened up, before ending where the towering peak of a mountain blocked off any further path. But, set into that mountain was a square doorway. This was the entrance to the Dragon Roost Cavern.

* * *

Beyond the doorway, a huge room ended in a doorway hidden behind stacked blocks. Link would have wondered how Medli had made her way through, had he not seen that some blocks had, in fact, been pulled away from the hidden entrance, leaving it exposed. The entrance was tall enough that he was able to walk through it upright, and it was twice as tall as one of the blocks.

Beyond that antechamber, an even vaster room with three daises arranged in a triangle drew his attention. One of the three "points" of the triangle was raised higher than the other two, with steps leading onto it, the top landing flanked by two torches, and a doorway set into the wall where it met the dais. The other two platforms were not as interesting, bare and boring.

A number of bokoblins—at least three, all black—patrolled the room. Two of these stood guard, unmoving, near the tallest platform. Link drew sword and shield, and crept over to the third bokoblin first.

All three of them left behind joy pendants, which surprised Link. When the last one was defeated, iron bars Link hadn't noticed before lifted from the front of the door in the wall, and there was a sound of a lock disengaging.

Link reached over to open the second door.

Beyond this point was a truly enormous room. From where he stood, there was a door to the right, and on his left, a broken wooden walkway that he could still have sidled across if there hadn't been another boulder blocking the way. He looked for a bomb flower, and found it. But, he couldn't see past the boulder to whatever was beyond. Also directly before him was a wood-and-rope bridge, with rope handrails and supports, but guarded by a number of bokoblins—the black ones, wielding clubs.

He saw, flying above the rope bridge, and around the distant platform where the bridge connected to another rope bridge, a number of infernally orange flying things. They flew erratically, now closer, now further away, and as he watched them, one flew close enough to notice him, and he observed, as it dove, that it was a keese—he had heard of the bats before, for they lived on Outset, too—and the keese was on fire. The fire did not seem to be causing it any pain at all; it made a sound very like a laugh as it dove in for the kill, and Link drew the sword he had foolishly sheathed at the entrance, leaving his shield be, knowing it was of wood, and therefore a quite flammable family heirloom. He managed to slice through one of the wings, and, unbalanced, the keese fell towards the lava that was the floor of the room, far below. Even as it fell, it exploded in black smoke, just as the bokoblins did.

Link took out the telescope, now, from his pocket, where he had stored it inside the messenger bag. (And, how did he still have space in his pockets, after all the stuff he had already crammed in? How did it not fall out?) He looked about the Cavern, seeing doors on the far side of the chamber—one at the end of the second rope bridge, and another on the opposite side of the room, at the end of a platform whose other end lay with a mysterious structure resembling a rope cage, but the base was thicker, and could not possibly be of a flammable material like rope, for a fiery geyser periodically erupted underneath, hitting it full force. Down below, part of a pathway could be seen nearby.

There was nowhere to head, except for the door at the end of the rope bridge, which Link could see was locked, and therefore useless to him, and whatever lay beyond the boulder, past the thin ledge he would have to sidle across, in the wall next to him.

His mind made up, he plucked the flower, watching the fuse burn down. He would need to time this carefully.

When he judged that the bomb was at approximately the right distance from detonation, he threw it, and it exploded just as it neared the boulder, which broke into pieces, leaving a ten-rupee piece. Really, he was running out of room for all the money he had stumbled upon on the island. He'd nearly recovered the funds he'd paid for the sail, and wondered if Zunari had given him a good deal after all.

While he thought, the smoke cleared, revealing a door lower down. It would be difficult, especially if he were injured, to get back up onto the ledge; Link hoped that the door led to a path to higher up. At the other side of the ledge was a blue door, that slid open easily at his slight push. It slid up, and he marked that, because doors within a building tended to look and behave in the same manner. Doors at Outset and Windfall, not to speak of Dragon Roost Island proper, all had handles to hold onto while you pushed or pulled, but these strange doors seemed to act almost on their own, with a disturbing sort of thoughtfulness. Somewhere in the corner of his mind, he remembered that this was a sacred place, and wondered if it perhaps wasn't alive.

On the other side of the door, a fiery pit blocked his way forward, while a closer approach (he marveled that the proximity of the lava did not exude more heat, but for now, put it from his mind as if it were unimportant) revealed that what had seemed an unusually square pool of lava instead continued further, eating into the fourth wall he hadn't been able to see, leading who-knew-where.

There were a couple of heavy jugs by the entrance. Picking one up revealed them to be brimming with somehow cool water, and he felt less concerned for having taken Medli's jar of water from her. She must've known about these jugs of water throughout the Cavern. Still, he wondered what the purpose of this room was. On the other side of the room, the way forwards was barred off with wooden planks. To his right was the river of lava, and to his left, more jugs of water.

And a treasure chest. He wondered what was inside that chest—it looked drab and wooden, reinforced at its edges with wood of a different colour, which was probably stronger than the lighter coloured wood on which it lay. He threw the jug of water into the lava, and watched in fascination as the water caused the molten rock to harden, temporarily. He had heard of such processes in Sturgeon's books, but it was one thing to hear, and another to watch it happen.

He jumped onto the makeshift platform in the lava (already beginning to melt, he could feel it, as it rocked beneath his feet) and thence walked onto the platform with the treasure chest.

Wary of any traps, he kicked it open with his boot, and, waiting a second, reached in, smiling when his hands closed on something cool and metallic. He was unsurprised to pull out a key. He put it into his messenger bag, and put the bag back into his pocket. It seemed best to keep everything in there when he didn't need it, with the exception of sword and shield. Although, if he'd had another shield, he would have used it. He was all too aware that, for such an old, wooden artefact, that slightest touch from a fire would quickly devour the thing, and the shield was a family heirloom, had once belonged to the Hero of Time himself. Link meant to take good care of it.

He picked up another of the jugs of water, and threw it so that it broke against the extant rock platform, resolidifying the liquefying rock, and then, almost on a whim, he picked up a jug, jumping from platform to third ledge, curious about what lay beyond the wooden barricade. He set the jug of water down, gently, and set to hacking away methodically at the wooden planks.

There was truly something strange about this blade. It was sharper than a blade ought to be, perhaps, cutting through the wood with greater ease than Link suspected a sword rightly ought.

Beyond was a fancy, ornate chest, covered in gold lacquer, and inset in aquamarine and—something pink—tourmaline, perhaps?

It looked the sort of chest wherein valuables would be stored. It was too big, and too weighty, to kick open. There was a catch to the latch, a mechanism to keep it closed. He wondered why there weren't a better lock on it, but then, it had been hidden behind a _wall_ of wooden planks. Perhaps, whoever had put it here had thought them protection enough.

He swiveled the locking mechanism, and opened the chest, to find what looked to be a very old map, made of a soft, thick material with a propensity towards bending. It took a bit of trying to find the four corners or edges of the thing, that he might pull the fabric taut enough to read it.

"It" was a map of the Cavern, labeled as such in Modern Hylian, and with a convenient Compass Rose and legend at the bottom. He took a moment to study it, coming over to lean against the jug of water.

According to the map, he was on the lowest of three storeys. Above these three was a fourth storey composed of a single, circular room, labeled with a skull, a symbol not to be found on the legend.

The rooms he had already been in were shaded in slightly, as if the map had been made for him, and _knew_ where he had and hadn't been. He saw, by this, that the path to the right, formerly blocked by a locked door (although he now had the key), led up, connecting to the second storey, which had a couple of winding subterranean passageways. One of these led up to the third storey, which had another corridor connecting to a small antechamber, through which the room with the skull label could be accessed.

The choice was clear. He would go across the bridge, heading to the right. It was all that he could do.

With that decision made, he turned to go. That was when four or five blobs, each solidly coloured either green or red, with bright yellow eyes, rimmed with heavy bags like those of an insomniac, dropped down around him. As he watched, a green one bunched itself up, compacting, and then launching itself into the air towards him, in what was clearly an attack.

Link wondered how these things could possibly hurt him, when they didn't seem to have any weapons—sheer brute force, perhaps? — but he drew the sword and cut the green monster in two.

He recognised them, now—apothecaries used the gel like what the green blob left behind after the monster itself dissolved into the ground. With green gel, you could make a potion to replenish magic, with red, the ultimate healing potion, which restored all energy and vitality, healing even the most trivial of wounds. But, there was nowhere to put the stuff. It would, doubtless, have ruined his messenger bag.

As he thought this, he watched three other chuchus—two green and one red—launch themselves at him. He cut through these with equal ease, and hastened to sheathe the sword, picking up the jug, and throwing it onto the platform before another ambush could be triggered.

Safe on the other side, he didn't trouble himself with looking back, only pushing gently on the door by which he had entered the room, which gave a little, and rose up into the ceiling, falling again when he had passed.

* * *

Keeping an eye out for the fire keese that he knew to be patrolling the main chamber, he kept the sword drawn and ready to fight the bokoblins guarding the far sides of each bridge. It wasn't ideal, fighting a monster on a rope bridge over a lake of lava, but he was able to slip past the first bokoblin, and lure it onto the small platform. The second one, however, refused to be lured, and he was forced to continually back up whilst trying to break through the monster's onslaught. The gaps between the support ropes of the bridge were large enough that fear of falling through seemed reasonable and justified. But, at last, he managed to defeat the second bokoblin, without once being caught by the fire keese. Now, he could approach the door.

An intricate sort of padlock with its chains prevented the handle of the door from moving. He stared at that handle, brass in the blue of the door, and wondered if the handle didn't exist just because the door needed to be kept locked. How much of the lay of the Cavern was the monsters' fault, and how much was normal?

He inserted the key into the padlock, and even as he twisted the key, the shaft broke off, and the padlock fell to the ground. He looked at the broken key, and then at the padlock, and finally at the handle of the door, and then he twisted the round knob, and crossed over to the other side.

He found himself outside, on a barren dirt path leading upwards, hugging the side of the mountain. Straight ahead, a strangely familiar-looking bird sat in a nest, unaware of his presence for the moment. He noticed, with some trepidation, that the body was predominantly black, with a white line around the neck, and a brown head, and golden tail feathers. _Kargaroc_, his mind supplied, but he was too busy remembering a much bigger, but similar-looking, bird, which wore a mask. He wondered if, underneath, the faces were the same.

As he came nearer the nest, he was frustrated to find that the bird launched itself into the air, flying over towards him, talons already outstretched. He drew the sword that Orca had given him again, slashing across the thin neck, dodging the pecks of the long yellow beak, and the swipes made with the sharp yellow talons. Only when the immediate danger had gone did he notice the glimmer of _something_ in the nest.

He paused to pick up a handful of the golden tail feathers—if he had had to kill the bird (entirely plausible, as these ledges were not as broad as they should be, and had no rail to keep anyone from falling down to the sea, far below)—he might as well take the opportunity to keep his word to the guard outside the passage. He tried not to notice how the body did not explode into smoke, and fixed his eyes upon the glint of metal in the nest, instead.

He found another key, identical to the one he had already lost, as if these were some sort of skeleton key for the Cavern. He slipped this into his messenger bag, with the map, and the Wind Waker, and several joy pendants. Then, he noticed a wooden plank—just wide enough to sidle across, if he hugged the wall as tight as he could, and beyond that, a steel ladder leading _up_ leant against a higher ledge. Periodic jets of fire burst from a volcanic vent, somewhere towards the centre. There was never an end to the geysers of flame. He would have thought that they wouldn't reach so high up, but alas, this was not the case.

He watched the rhythmic behaviour of the vent for a couple of minutes before he set to climbing, noticing a pattern to the jets of flame. Always, it was preceded by a hissing noise, and sparks that shot out from the crack in the volcanic wall. He began to climb when the vent was about to blow, and stopped just outside the area it would heat. He waited for the vent to subside again before climbing once more, surprised when the metal—which ought to have been hot—was instead cool to the touch. It had been hit by the full force of the fire, after all. It should have been red-hot.

Not that he didn't appreciate this bit of illogical providence.

He pulled himself to the top of the ledge, lifting his head up over the edge first to be sure that nothing was there. There was a door, of course—his map suggested as much—but nothing else. The door was unlocked, and so Link was able to open it to walk back inside, into a completely darkened room.

Two torches at the room's entrance tried valiantly to shed light on the situation, but in vain. The most use he found for them was that, guided by their light, he could see a jar of clubs, of the same sort as those that had stood near the bounding walls of the lookout towers on The Forsaken Fortress. Indeed, he suspected they were made of the same wood, if indeed they were of wood. Each of them had the bulging end, and narrow tips that served for handles. It resembled a drumstick, if less thick and round at the ends. The unbalanced weight made the club seem heavier than it was, of course, making the whole quite unwieldy, and he was glad that he didn't have to use it as a weapon this time.

Predictably, as if prompted by these sorts of thoughts, he began to hear a sort of squeaking coming from above the moment he lit his makeshift torch, and he resented the situation at hand. The main room—the one with the bridges over lava—had such keese, but on fire, suggesting that the fire of the torch wouldn't hurt keese—and would instead make them more dangerous.

He set the torch down on the ground, reaching for his sword to cut them in two as they approached, and, with the several keese dispatched, he was free to pick the thing up again, heading deeper into the room.

Whenever he came to a torch, he lit it, and the room gradually brightened. It was a long corridor, ending in a large room filled with pots. Pots were placed precariously on shelves, on top of beds (whose beds were these; who slept in this place? Did they belong to monsters?), and covered the table in the middle of the room. Two empty pots flanked the now-lit torches that stood on either side of another of the blue doors. Said door was locked, the padlock obstructing the handle.

Link found the sheer number of pots in the room suspicious, and had the uneasy sense of being watched. Some subterranean part of his mind recognised that he was alert and wary, and ready to do battle. He thought that he heard soft breathing.

He remembered that Medli had come here before him, but he rejected the idea that she might have hidden from him. No, this was something more of an ambush. He threw down the torch, and stomped on it to put out the blaze, and then drew the sword.

He broke pots until he had driven out all of the hiding black bokoblins, and a sense of safety returned to his mind. The tension left him, and he relaxed. He had found a key amidst all of the pots and the monsters, which meant that he now had two keys, and one locked door. He wondered if the other key weren't merely a spare, recalling the key that had broken when he had used it. He had a feeling that that was how keys worked, here, in the Cavern. It was frustratingly inconvenient, but understandable. The oddest part was that, comparing the keys side by side, he found that they were identical.

With a sigh, he twisted the key in the padlock, unsurprised, now, when it broke irreparably, and the chains fell off into darkness. He did notice the mystery that, despite an otherwise smooth stone floor, he did not trip on the chains or the padlock, as he twisted the handle. Being unable to see the chains in the darkened room was one thing, but he knew that they should have been in his way, crossing them, in order to open the door and leave the room. He put it from his mind as best he could, to focus on what dangers might lie behind the door.

* * *

These dangers turned out to be a blindingly bright outdoor path, as the one before, brilliant to the point of incapacitating him after the unnaturally darkened room he had just left. He stood on the threshold, door opened, for a few moments, allowing his eyes the sorely needed time to adjust, whilst leaving himself an escape route, just in case he wouldn't be allowed to backtrack. He was somewhat alarmed not to have encountered another barred door, yet.

He was about to. He climbed up a set of steps carved into the path, and tried not to notice as they gave way under his feet, falling into an infinite abyss. Well, that's how it felt, anyway.

After the falling steps had created a gap far larger than he could jump across, the remaining steps stayed steady underfoot, and then there was a dirt path, just like the one he had followed in the previous outdoor corridor (if a corridor you could call a winding outdoor path).

Around a bend, he found a pen, all of thick wooden posts (he doubted even the strangely keen blade Orca had lent him could cut through them) arranged and crisscrossed like netting, stretching incredibly high into the sky, and then, on the opposite side of the open entrance, a small chamber with a rocky roof, where a rito girl with long red hair stood, clutching at the bars, looking to be on the verge of tears.

Unthinking, perhaps reminded too strongly of Aryll, he rushed into the pen, pausing only when stakes drove down into the wood of the entrance behind him, Medli, belatedly, called for him to watch out, and a kargaroc came from parts unknown to deliver one of the pig-like monsters he had avoided by barrel in the Forsaken Fortress, dropping it right in front of him. He did not relish the thought of fighting a spearman. No, not at all.

There were no fire keese nor vents nearby, and thus he backflipped, drew the sword, followed by the shield from his back, and watched the moblin's attack intently, chastising himself for letting down his guard, and taking up the best defensive position he could manage.

He suspected that the best strategy would be to wait for the moblin to attack, and parry attack, counting on the moblin to overextend itself. If he tried to close in, the moblin would attack as soon as he was within range. He kept on the move, and waited for the moblin to swing the spear. He tried to ignore Medli's gasps and exclamations as she watched the fight. He tried, in truth, to forget she was even there.

There! The moblin swung, and he jumped up, under the swing of the spear, blocking and twisting the spear away, slicing into the monster's side, and around its back, and landing on his feet behind it. He did not shy away from taking another, cheaper strike at the monster's back. The parry attack hadn't cut through deeply enough, but the follow up attack had, driven as it was by the greater force inherent in a jump attack.

The monster dispersed in black smoke, and Link considered relaxing, but the stakes were still blocking the entrance, and here came another kargaroc, high out of reach. Link briefly wished that he had some sort of ranged weapon, but then he was joined in battle again, and wishful, hopeless thoughts were more than he could afford.

The second moblin jabbed at his side, but Link backflipped away from the blow, careful not to make any moves that wouldn't leave him the time to dodge. If Link hadn't been in the other moblin's blind spot, he wouldn't have tried a risky technique like the jump attack. Here, with the moblin already wise, perhaps, to some of his techniques (whence came that blasted kargaroc; how much had its passenger seen?), he limited himself to basic attacks as he searched for an opening.

This monster seemed to favour jabbing, which rendered his parry attack useless—he needed a swinging attack whose momentum he could exaggerate, and use the monster's attack against it. The shaft of the spear was incredibly unyielding, even to his sharp and trusty blade, which ruled out disarming, and the monsters wielded the spear less as a spear, and more as a thrusting sword.

It was also, unfortunately, too fast for Link to get into its blind spot in the natural way of things, and, sooner or later, he would tire. Judging by the unending rounds the guards of the Forsaken Fortress had endured, he would tire long before the moblin. He would have to try something desperate soon, perhaps.

He blocked a thrust with the shield, and brought the sword around to cut at the monster's briefly exposed belly, even though he couldn't see what he was doing. The spear didn't stick into the shield, and the monster quickly backed away, creating distance between them.

He had scored a hit, a cut that was already closing, in the monster's side. He followed with one of Orca's combat sequences—the vertical slice combo attack: up, down, left, right, and used the blocking position the monster had adopted to try another parry attack.

He warily watched the skies as the second moblin deteriorated, disintegrating in black smoke, and the bars of both Medli's cage and the pen rose back up—wherever in the ceiling and the arch of the gate a number of thick wooden stakes could be hidden. Unless they were hollow and retractable, he didn't see how the stakes wouldn't poke out the top of the gate, at the very least.

Any further contemplation of unimportant matters was driven from his thoughts by Medli, rushing over.

"Oh, thank goodness you came here! Thank you for rescuing me! You're hurt, though," she said, frowning at a shallow cut near his left shoulder. It would have to be on his sword arm, wouldn't it? he thought bitterly.

"There's only those two monsters, so I think we're alright now. But, the way forward is barred to one without wings. Luckily, I brought _this_. I suppose, now, that it's inevitable that we'll be making our way to speak with Valoo together. Please take this."

She sighed, bowing her head, reaching into some space Link couldn't see to bring out a long length of rope, with a claw at one end, attached, somehow, with metal. He took it from her with great care, and gave her a puzzled glance, hoping for an explanation.

"This is called the grappling hook. It's said that, before my people evolved wings with which to fly, they used _this_ to get around. Every rito is given one, to enable them to navigate the island despite lacking wings. When we come of age, we still keep ours. It takes a while to get used to flying.

"There are posts you can use the grappling hook on located around this part of Valoo's tower. Come on, I'll show you how it works. Ihave enough experience to fly from post to post, I think. My wings feel a lot stronger, this close to Valoo. Or maybe it's the stakes…. Oh! Forgive me for babbling! We must hurry and speak to Valoo!"

Medli raced back out the gate without another word, glancing back behind her as she did, as if to urge haste.

Link followed, still clutching the grappling hook, which he thought he more or less understood. It would be similar to Niko's lecture about swinging from the ropes of the lanterns.

He noticed, first, that Medli was standing on top of a horizontal wooden log sticking out of the side of the mountain. He recalled unconsciously observing several of these posts before, especially on the path to the entrance to the main chamber of the Island. He hadn't thought them to be natural phenomena but hadn't given much thought to their use, either.

Now, listening to Medli's lecture on how to use the hook— swing the rope like a lasso, throw the loop over the post, aiming it so that the rope looped over the hook of the tool, pulling it tight as you did—he understood. He wondered at the skill that all ritos would necessarily have built up from their youth in such a useless subject that they would never use it again—unless their wings were injured, and wondered if there were more than luck and skill involved. Medli didn't seem to question that the hook would work the same for him, although he wasn't a rito.

Finishing her lecture, she flew to the next post, and he swung the lasso of the rope. He made the discovery that, with the tension, and the impeccable balance of the hook, he wouldn't be surprised if the hook couldn't be used to grab items from a distance, also. The tension would make it behave like a hook attached to a rod, for a split second, as if he were using one of those hooks that salespeople on Windfall used to reach high places. It could be useful.

It looped firmly over the hook on the first try, providing a secure grip on the post. Link decided that he might as well trust his weight on it, and swung across, to a platform he hadn't seen before he'd followed the path of his momentum, and caught sight of it around a bend. He rolled to his feet, standing easily despite the heavy impact.

Medli was around a corner, on another horizontal post, but she flew ahead, to the next one, and left him to follow her. They continued the game of follow the leader, until he came to a ledge right above the door through which he had entered. He hadn't noticed it when he had come outside, but then, he had been a bit dazzled by the light.

"You have to go back in there, I think. I'll go back up, and continue to try to speak to Valoo."

"Wait, Medli," he began, although she was already flying away. "What if there are more monsters?"

She landed before him again, and gave him a puzzled glance, and then nodded. She realised that he was something of a makeshift bodyguard.

"From here, it doesn't sound as if Valoo is angry. It sounds as if he's in pain. Listen," she commanded, and he obeyed. Sure enough, the faint cries he heard didn't sound angry.

He tried not to be conspicuous about it, but he glanced at Medli's ears. They were pointed, and long, like his and Aryll's. He remembered what Quill had said about girls with long ears like Aryll's and Tetra's being kidnapped. What was the importance? Was it just the reputation of long-eared people for having heightened senses of hearing? "Nothing will disturb me whilst I am in the air, I don't think—not this near the Great Valoo. Wait for me, in the chamber below Valoo's nest. You'll recognise it, because Valoo's tail hangs down into that chamber. But, I must take a risk, and speak with him. Don't worry about me; the cause is more important."

And, with a shy smile, Medli was once again airborne, flying away before Link could pull out the map to ask her what she knew. How frustrating.

Instead, he glared at the door back to inside, and pulled out his map. According to this—wait, when had the rooms he had been to been shaded in? Those rooms had definitely not been coloured in before. They showed him to currently be on the third storey, with only a single storey's worth of puzzles keeping him from the antechamber, and the room marked with a skull.

And if he wasn't mistaken, he would be returning, at long last, to the main chamber, where the fire keese and rope bridges were.

* * *

He opened the door, and sighed, unsurprised to find himself near the birdcage shape he had noticed at the entrance to the Cavern. There was a floral pattern in faded paint atop a platform—ceramic, perhaps, and hopefully not metal—rocking sharply back and forth as the geyser of flame hit it, stabilised it, and then left it hanging, suspended by a number of ropes, from the ceiling. Link didn't know what waited for him down below, but cutting the ropes seemed to be the only way forwards.

There was an opening, a way into the cage, right before him. He didn't hesitate, drawing his sword even as he entered the enclosure. Remembering one of Orca's techniques, he held the sword out at his side, and spun in a circle, slicing with his sword as he did, until he had rotated body and blade enough to cut through every rope in a single blow. He knew by the steadiness of the platform that the geyser of flame was gone, but it was still a shock to fall so far so fast. He feared the fall might harm him as any fall would, but the platform fell at an equal rate to him himself, so there was no jarring impact.

He opened his eyes, which he hadn't been able to help squeezing tightly shut, and noticed land within the lava, right before him. He leapt without thinking, and then the geyser of flame erupted, shoving the platform back into the air. He wondered why he hadn't seen this landstrip before, and then realised, looking up, that it was hidden from view by the rope bridge above.

Then, his speculation was dropped in favour of fending off the two bokoblins, both black, patrolling this corridor, below. The rope bridge was not terribly high above, and he could hear a new set of bokoblin guards patrolling there. He hoped that they didn't have a way down. He scarce felt the need for strategy or planning against such meagre challenge as these, after fighting the two moblins. He took the offensive, though outnumbered, remembering that time was of the essence, now that Medli was alone, and known to have been captured once.

It was in the middle of battle that he noticed the padlocked grate at the far end of the corridor—beneath the door that, on the first storey, led to the outside. He ran the second bokoblin through, and waited for the smoke to clear, picking up the butterfly pendant, almost thoughtlessly, before heading over to remove the padlock. This time, upon twisting the key, he noticed how the chains and padlock seemed to disappear as they fell to the ground. There was no sound to indicate that they ever reached the ground.

The wooden stakes around the hidden chamber were, in effect, a sort of horizontally sliding door. It was easy enough to pull open, and harder to figure out what to make of the chest lying before him. Here was another of the same sort of fancy chests as he had found the map in, with the same colour and same size stones.

He twisted the swivel-clasp and the lid popped open, and he found it rather ironic that there was nothing inside but a key, and a rather large one, at that; easily as long as his forearm, this key would not be easy to lose. It was all of gold, with an intricate design on the handle. It rather resembled a horned monster, with evil, squinting eyes.

He shoved the key into the messenger bag, and put the bag back into his pocket. Then, he tried to figure out what to do next.

* * *

When he was back at the door by which he had returned to this room, he noticed a grappling hook post set in the wall behind him. If he wasn't mistaken, there was another door somewhere above him. A spiraling path of grappling hook posts pointed a way upwards. He realised that to reach each successive one, he would have to stand atop the previous. If he failed, the inevitable result would be falling into the lava below.

He remembered, with a start, that there were fire keese somewhere nearby.

It was an interesting experience, if terrifying, swinging and stopping and climbing up, post after post. It was particularly _interesting_ when a chattering fire keese caught sight of him and rushed him, only to be taken from the sky with a blow from the hook itself. It was not much of a weapon, but it had worked well enough, in a tight spot. He made greater haste still after that close call, until he stood on a post within jumping distance of a ledge. There was a blue door there, and thus he leapt.

Turning around, he suspected that he had come about ninety degrees, from where he had started. He tried not to think about all of that space, and how he might return.

The room beyond the blue door was the antechamber, in which a lake of lava (a _square_ lake, again) separated him from a set of tall terraced steps, with much smaller steps in the middle leading up to a great padlocked door. That was one huge padlock.

There were jars and treasure chests clearly visible on the other side, but also a couple of strange fiery red creatures milling about. There was something insectile about them; perhaps it was the huge, black pincers, or the segmented bodies and myriad legs, or perhaps it was the single, mindless, pale blue-green eye. A glance through the telescope showed that there was armour covering every inch of them—natural, not artificial, and therefore near impossible to prise off—and that left one solitary point of weakness—the eyes.

Of course, it was too far to the other side for him to hit a moving target from here. He'd have to swing across. He'd spent the past several minutes analysing the far side, and pretending that the hook dangling from the ceiling wasn't there. It was a very reliable looking hook, all things considered. He felt that he could trust it with his weight. But, he missed the regularity of the posts scattered about the island.

Well, there was no point postponing the inevitable. He put away Aryll's telescope, drew out the grappling hook, and aimed. He was unsurprised that, even in the more limited space, the rope wrapt tight around itself, and he was swinging with the momentum he had himself given to his swing by the force of his throw.

On his first swing across, a monster clicked its pincers together at him. He let the natural pull tug him back to the original side, and pumped his legs, sending himself flying higher and faster. Finally, he built up enough momentum, and landed, hard, on his hands and knees on the far side. He couldn't roll to his feet, this time.

He watched the two magtails carefully, waiting for one or the other to strike. One clicked its pincers together, right in front of its eyes, and then drew them apart again. He stuck his sword through its eyes, and made to go after the other.

And then, he noticed that a third had crawled out of the lava pit. On second thought, perhaps it would be best to cut his losses, and to go on, through the door on top, only accessible via his huge metal key. There had been no introduction of new monsters when he had been watching, and thus, he suspected that they would continue to be replaced until either he ran out of the energy with which to fight, or he was no longer there to be threatened. The creatures seemed almost formed of fire—all but the eyes. Perhaps they were a sort of fire spirit, after all.

He ignored the treasure chests in this room, but then, as if he couldn't resist, opened each, just to see what was within. Fifty rupees? Pointless. But, a "knight's crest", with a letter explaining all about it writ in familiar handwriting inside? That had been unexpected.

Knights' crests, symbols of the greatest warriors on the great seas, were rare and hard to come by. They were items that could be stolen or won from a mysterious creature known as the darknut, which wore them on its wrists, under their heavy plate.

The letter, which looked so very faded and old, explained that its author had attained knowledge of a new technique by showing the crests to an unnamed someone, somewhere on the Great Sea. He offered to teach anyone the technique, in exchange for ten knights' crests. That wasn't the surprising part. That would be the signature at the end of the missive, a very familiar one: Orca of Outset.

Orca. Orca of Outset. This was some way to prove himself to the kindly old man who had been something of a grandfather to Link. He pocketed the crest, and ignored the other chest. He wondered about the pots, but felt only the menace he was coming to associate with the magtails in the room. He ignored them to turn instead to the great double doors before him.

It was a familiar thing, now, to put the key in the keyhole, and twist. But, this key didn't break after he had unlocked the door. The padlock retreated instead of falling off, withdrawing into chambers in the four corners of the doorframe, and the key glowed in its handle. He twisted the key again, and opened the door.

* * *

He had expected, he was embarrassed to admit even to himself, a room much like the main chamber of Dragon Roost Island—the one with the ramp leading upwards. There was no such path upwards, here, and he took a brief moment to wonder how it was that rito approached Valoo to get their scales. No, instead of the path he noticed, looking around the room, a circle of packed dirt, shelves hanging high above, spaced at regular intervals, and, in the centre of that circle, a much vaster pool of lava.

He was about to turn around to look for another route forwards when he heard the unmistakable whoosh of bars falling down across the door through which he had entered, and sighed in resignation, not even turning around. It made sense, if Valoo was in pain, that there was some sort of monster here to cause it, and a powerful one, if the bars were a clue. Or, he thought, ill at ease, the skull marked on the map.

Valoo's tail wiggled free of a platform of earth suspiciously equally wide as the lake of lava, and a vast _thing_ reared up out of the pit. It was bone white in colour, with a single, vast green-blue eye, its head covered in some sort of armour. It had two huge pincers, with which it thrust a new platform of solid earth up into the hole, and many little legs. It looked, in short, rather like a larger version of the crawling fire bugs outside. Perhaps they were too small to see the huge, gaping maw, with its shriveled looking lips. Though that still left the question of why the monster was off-white instead of molten red and black.

And then, predictably, his thoughts were cut short by the approaching pincer of the new monster. Link leapt and rolled to the side, his eye fixed on the platform, and Valoo's tail hanging down. He could only hope that Valoo would forgive him, but that tail looked ever so much like the hook in the previous room. And the shelves set into the walls were just the right distance and height away to swing to in safety. If Valoo had wriggled free on his own once, that platform of stone must be fairly precariously lodged into the ceiling. Link suspected that he could jar it loose with his weight alone, but swinging back and forth might help jiggle it further loose.

He dodged another blow from the pincers, and brought out the grappling hook.

It was a very convenient, easy-to-use tool, and he hoped that Medli didn't want it back afterwards. He could easily see how it could come in useful, even far away from Dragon Roost Island, and he _was_ on a rather important quest.

He hooked the rope over Valoo's tail, and was airborne just in time to avoid another fist of the great bug, which, seeing that he was out of reach, raised what passed for its face so that its armoured eye was looking right at Link, keeping him in sight at all times.

Link wondered why it didn't leave its lava pool, as would its smaller counterparts.

He landed on the shelf on the opposite side of the room from that whence he had started, just in time to tug the hook loose from its moorings before the platform fell down onto the monster, dazing it. Link was surprised to see something like armour flaking off, cracking and peeling away all over the body. But, the damage was insufficient, and the creature merely reared up, ready with a new block of stone to shove up over Valoo's tail. Or, maybe it was the old one. It was hard to tell; it seemed to come from nowhere.

Link swung the grappling hook almost straight out, aiming slightly downwards, and was relieved when the hook caught on Valoo's tail again, as he went flying back across the pit in front of the monster. Once again, he avoided being hit by the falling platform, once again he watched as the armour cracked further, revealing black underneath. One more blow should do it—it only remained in a truly coherent piece around the eye, which, Link had realised from the start, was precisely what he needed to uncover.

He readied the grappling hook, waiting until the platform was secured, and then swung across for the third time. This time, the remains of the armour flaked off, revealing a black monster with a white underbelly, and that huge, almost glowing blue-green eye.

How to go about exposing the eye to the blade of his sword was the next dilemma. The monster had not bothered replacing the platform this time, and it was faster and more flexible with its armour gone. It had a much further reach, and even the shelves set into the walls were no longer safe.

Link jumped off and rolled in time to avoid the pincers that slammed into the shelf, avoiding the hazard of broken ceramic with a quick roll. He noticed that, now that the monster was attacking with both pincers, dragging more of its body further out of the pool of lava, its eye followed, and the way to the eye seemed to be being just close enough to lash out at the eye in the brief moments before the creature retracted its pincers for another attack. He leapt down on the floor, and watched for the insectile monster to attack.

He stayed close to the edge that it might think (if it _could_ think) that it had a chance of hitting him, and then backflipped to avoid the claws. The eye landed where he ought to have been, and slammed hard into the ground. For a moment, the monster lay there, dazed and hurting, and Link prolonged its suffering by savagely slicing at the exposed eye.

Eventually, it managed to draw back, but then it reared up, hitting its head against the roof, causing a small cave in that Link thought might crush him, too. And then it sank beneath the lava, crumbling as it did, as if made of hardened clay. In moments, there was nothing left of it, and the pool of lava began to cool, leaving behind a platform of hardened lava, and a shimmering beam of blue light, standing in the centre.

The door was unlocked, and Link could only think of one thing to do: head into the light and hope for the best.

* * *

It brought him outside, to a platform he hadn't noticed before, where a flustered Medli was still spouting some strange language at a red dragon, each of her words slow, and carefully chosen, as if she were still a bit uncertain as to their meaning.

She jumped when the blue light deposited him in front of her, slowly setting him on his feet, when he had expected to be rudely dumped onto the ground.

"Link! You're alright! And, the Great Valoo isn't in pain anymore, look!" She pointed, rather unnecessarily, at the great sky spirit, who threw back his head, and gave voice to a sound rather like a horn. A cloud around the mountain that Link hadn't noticed before dissipated, and the sky seemed to clear. Link remembered that this was a sky spirit, and such control over weather was to be expected.

Then, Valoo peered down to look at them, bending a long, red neck down to fix them with yellow eyes the colour of his underbelly (and the bottom of his neck). He said something in what seemed to be the same language as Medli had just spoken, but so fast that Link could tell without looking at Medli that she was flummoxed.

"Er—he wishes—to thank you for your assistance in defeating the monster that was tormenting him, and he calls you a true hero," she said, uncertain.

The dragon said something else, as if knowing that she had finished translating what he had said.

"He advises you to head south, but before you do that, to use the wind gods'…wind? He must be speaking of the shrine in the back of the mountain, although how that will help, I don't know."

The dragon drew back from Medli and Link, who was trying to hide how bewildered and lost he currently was.

"Come on, Link, let's go! I think I can carry you back to the entrance where we parted. It's a shame that no one can come back up here without wings until the ladder leading to this balcony is replaced, but at least we can do that now. Come on!"

Reluctantly, Link allowed himself to be picked up in Medli's talons, wondering as he did if that was how Aryll had felt, kidnapped by the great bird. Well, aside from the fact that she had had every reason to be afraid that the bird might eat her, or what it would do to her if it didn't. Link, on the other hand, quite enjoyed his flight. The wind was cool and rejuvenating, invigorating after the heat of the Cavern.

Medli set him down outside the Cavern door, and they made their way back through in silence, Link noticing as they went that the darkened corridor was brightly lit, now, and there was no sense of menace, nor any monsters to be seen. There were no corpses of kargarocs, either, and Link had at least fifteen feathers. Hokit had asked for twenty, and he already had almost as many as he needed.

Inside the Cavern, which was holy space, neither Medli nor Link wanted to talk, although Medli kept looking over at him as if there were something she desperately wished to say. It was fortunate that the journey was much briefer without monsters or puzzles to slow their progress. She burst into speech the moment they were across the (now solid rock) former pit of lava in the narrow corridor leading to the entrance.

"I think the danger has past," said Medli. "You've saved our entire race! Thank you, Link! You really were brave! I can't wait to tell Komali!"

"Tell me what?" asked a familiar voice, sounding much less rude and sulky than Link was used to. Medli spun around, to see Komali, poorly hidden by the self-same tall wall that surrounded the lake.

"Oh! Prince Komali!" said Medli, bowing low before him. Link realised that he had made no obeisance upon their first acquaintance, either, as if he were keeping a running tally of his failures in etiquette.

To Link's enduring surprise, Komali blushed, running a nervous hand through his hair. "There's no need for that, Medli. We've been friends forever, after all. I'm glad you're safe." He bit his lip, and turned towards Link, surprising Link with a bow in his direction, hand over the heart, and surprisingly deep.

"I'm sorry I doubted you. I watched what was going on from a distance. I followed you to see what would happen, after you'd gone. I didn't expect for you to—for you to venture into the Cavern alone, and with no more wings than I. I'm really sorry about what I said. I was wrong about you."

Now, he was scuffing the dirt underfoot with those taloned legs.

"Thanks to you, I think I understand what true courage is. I've realised I can't gain it by clinging to the past and hiding behind memories. Instead, I must move forwards, and make my own path—give of myself in sacrifice, to help others. That's what courage is, I think. That strength of will that pushes you on, not selfishly, but on the behalf of others."

"Prince Komali," Medli began. She sounded even more uncertain than when she had been translating for Valoo. She shot Link a confused look.

"I want you to take this," Komali said, somehow withdrawing the huge ball of before from seeming thin air.

Link could see that it was decorated with swirling lines, and wondered about their significance. If there was any significance.

"It's Din's Pearl, that you need to save your sister. Anything I can do to help you save your sister will also give me courage. I mean to be a better person, and not sulk when I'm confronted by challenges, but rather I will face them head on. Thank you, Link Sylvanus. Your gift to me is greater even than what I can repay. But, I hope you remember us rito when you use that Pearl to save your sister."

"Komali, are you sure?" asked Link, hesitating now that his aim was in sight. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to give up the last relic of a recently lost family member, one whom he dearly loved. The mere thought of losing Aryll's telescope was as a vise on his heart, and he knew her to be alive. There would be time for new memories, and new special items, between the two of them. But, this was all that remained to Komali of his beloved grandmother.

Komali was insistent, seeming not to even notice the hand Medli put on his shoulder as a show of support and concern for him.

"Take it. It's what you came here for. It's not doing anyone any good, staying here, but if I give it to you, I know you'll treat it well."

Link took the Pearl, hesitant, wondering where he could put it.

Komali smiled, losing the look of sorrow and worry that had plagued him from the start, and made him seem unpleasant.

"Come along, Link. Medli and I can see you off. I'll show you the way to the shrine."

Medli hesitated. "Perhaps, you could accompany him, Prince Komali. I admit my part in the adventure wore me out rather."

Komali watched her go with a strange expression of determination, and then turned back to Link.

"It's just as well I'm still groundbound, or I might forget that you couldn't fly and show you a bad route. Come on."

Komali swam back across the lake first, and Link followed.

* * *

He walked back into the central chamber of the rito aerie, and Link was surprised how little fuss was made about the departure of the prince—but after all, what trouble could he have encountered, with the lake dried up, and the Cavern out of reach for one without wings?

Link followed him, grateful that the water of the lake washed away the dirt and grime (and other substances) covering him like a blanket after his journey through the Cavern. He could almost casually hand over the sixteen or so feathers he had accumulated thus far, though not as casually as the guard received them, with the most surreptitious hiding Link had seen. The rito guard never even looked down to see what he was doing, and Link knew from experience that feathers were not things easily stored.

Komali jumped down from the second storey in lieu of using a ramp, and Link hurried after him—back outside again, down the sturdy wooden balcony corridor, through the archway, down the ledge with the blocks arranged to allow passage for the wingless, and stopped, at last, before a barely visible doorway blocked with a giant boulder.

Link sighed. Komali was already starting to look defeated, but then he changed his mind, staring at the bomb flowers all around.

He picked one, held onto it for a few seconds, and then threw the thing. It exploded as it hit the rock, leaving behind yet another ten-rupee piece, and a doorway, a natural corridor, to the other side of the island. Glancing back at Link, Komali beckoned him to follow.

Link, for one, was surprised at not only the sharp change in Komali's personality (although he remembered that Medli had described Komali as "usually very sweet", but also the fact that Komali was willing to dirty his hands with what seemed almost like menial labour.

But, he shook himself, and followed, through the corridor, to another beach, equally sandy to the one upon which he had first arrived. He turned to Komali, puzzled, but Komali merely pointed to an island, not far from shore, with two monuments upon it.

He might have said something, as well, but Link was too busy thinking about, and analysing, those monuments. They were both very tall, and blue, and he caught sight of pictures adorning one—some kind of symbols. But, the other monument was broken, doubtless in the enraged thrashing of the Great Valoo, when he had been injured. The damage looked recent, the edges still sharp. Link guessed it had happened not long ago at all.

Link nodded, once, in gratitude, and, sensing an imminent farewell, he at last gave a bow to the prince, who responded in kind.

"But, let's be friends, Link Sylvanus. If ever you return to our island of Dragon Roost, please, make yourself welcome, and visit me at any time. I look forward to our next meeting."

He turned to go back inside, and Link turned towards the water, and dove in.

* * *

Link was dripping wet with the seawater as he hauled himself onto the shrine by the shore. If he had been dehydrated upon his departure from the Cavern, and he admitted he might have been, the gulps he was forced to take of seawater cured that. It tasted just like the water of the well at home, to his surprise.

He had thought—why he wasn't sure—that it would have some strange, unknown minerals in it to affect the taste. But, it did not. It was a bit refreshing, too, to cool off yet again after the strenuous activity of spelunking, but he wished for a stiff breeze to dry him off.

Perhaps it was ironic, or perhaps it was appropriate, that no wind disturbed the shrine, leaving him to analyse the two stelai in peace.

The one on the left was the undamaged one, spared the destruction caused by Valoo lashing out (trying to squash the pesky bug that Link had slain?). The stele had symbols engraved in the dead centre, three of them—one an embossed arrow pointing up, one pointing left, and the third pointing right, each set into a curve of the rock, as if to protect them better from erosion. Link frowned, and pulled out the Wind Waker, not quite eager to use it for the first time in such a setting. He pointed to the left with his right hand, and then followed the directions with his left, swinging the Wind Waker without resistance into the three positions marked, and listening as an absent wind seemed to hum along. The song sounded almost…familiar. But that was impossible; he'd recall hearing this song before. He had an ear for music, and always learnt it quickly. Sturgeon had taught him a song or two, on the harp.

No sooner did the song finish, did a sudden small cloud whisk in out of nowhere, carrying a chortling blue frog on its fluffy surface. Link stared at the giant frog, forced to question his own sanity.

"Well, well, well! Welcome to you, new Wink Waker! It's good to have a new one after all these years! And so quick on the uptake, too. Do you like my song? I am Zephos, the god of clear-skied gentle winds. No better god as a guide for a sailor, eh? Not like my nasty brother, Cyclos."

The wind god circled him on his cloud, studying Link from every angle, as if thinking. "Ah, but don't think too badly of him," the god said, lowering himself down to Link's level. Link couldn't help taking a startled step back, wondering how you were supposed to act in the presence of a god. No one had mentioned this in any religious festivals, and it was hardly a common occurrence. Thankfully, this seemed to be a minor deity—less important even than Valoo, whose might must have overruled Zephos's control. Here on Dragon Roost, at least, he was safe, if the god decided he didn't like him, for Valoo seemed to appreciate his efforts. Then again, the god seemed very friendly and easy-going; perhaps he was safe anyway.

"You see, a few nights ago, a rock from the cliff up above crashed down upon this shrine, and Cyclos's monument broke, whilst mine was left intact. The ritos, who ordinarily look after the maintenance of this shrine, have not yet come around to fixing the monument, and he feels slighted, both that the rock fell and broke his monument, but not mine, and that the ritos haven't been paying us any attention. Although, by the sound of it, they have enough troubles on their minds with all the recent damage caused all over the island by Valoo's temper tantrum, ha, if you would call it that! He's not a dragon in its infancy anymore, but he sure acts like it! But, the ritos follow three sky gods, dependent as they are on the weather, and this is sort of Valoo's home turf. Of course he's their main concern. I understand their sentiments completely—although perhaps that's because it wasn't my monument that was broken. Hmmm… well, what can you do?

"Now listen, young Wind Waker. I am the god of friendly breezes, the sailor's best friend, and anytime you need to change the direction in which the wind blows in your area, conduct the song you just did, and point your arm in the direction you wish for the wind to blow, and I'll send a localised burst of wind in that area in that direction (as long as it isn't indoors or anything ridiculous like that), until you tell me otherwise, or go out of my reach. I'm just generous that way.

"Now, before I go, I want to send you off with a bit of a warning. My brother, you see, is just as powerful—no, I'll admit it: he's more powerful than I. He's a good, strong ally to have, but right now, he's in a vengeful mood. Be careful of cyclones you see on the sea, because he might be riding in one. And, if you find a way to hit him from a distance, smack him around a bit for me, hmm? Well, I'm off!"

And, while Link's head was still spinning with all of the new information, the frog, still laughing his head off (and were frogs, even frog gods, _supposed _to be blue?) zipped away on his personal flying cloud transport.

Link stood there for a few seconds, or perhaps a few minutes, thinking over everything he had just been told. Then, almost reluctant, yet filled with unquenchable curiosity, he went to the second stele, the upper right-hand corner of which had a huge chunk missing. The stone was still rough and sharp, and Link wondered how you would go about repairing such a massive work. There were pieces of the stele on the ground, but he wasn't sure that, even with those pieces, the monument would be complete. Probably, the ritos would have to chisel out a whole new rock. And Link didn't recall seeing rocks that eerie, aqua blue anywhere on the island. Perhaps it was imported? The closest he could think of were the greyish rock of the stone blocks he had noticed in the entrance to Dragon Roost Cavern. Maybe…?

He examined the monument itself more closely, to see that there were engraved markings chiseled in, at least two of them, the first pointing down, the second to the right. Presumably, they were instructions on a song to be conducted with the Wind Waker. He would have to get the real rhythm and notes straight from Zephos, or hope that the song was something unimportant, which he doubted, if it were on such a stele to begin with.

Deep in thought, he swam back to the shore, and returned back under the arch, heading down the broader slope and shore, back to where the patch of red lay conspicuous in the coastal waters.

"I have the Pearl," Link announced, before the boat could start off on a speech. Link wanted to sleep, not to hear a lecture on the importance of the Pearl, which he was sure was coming, or questions about his visit with the ritos, which was inevitable, or some random request he couldn't think of, off the top of his head. "If there's a place where the Pearl is secure, I want to know where it is. I don't trust it not to fall out with my messenger bag. My pocket is not the wisest place to store important things."

He pulled out the Pearl as he approached, watched the neck of the boat turn to look at him, and the lips chew on themselves, as if in thought.

"There is a compartment where the mast usually is, to which I retract the sail when it is not in use, as it is not now." Indeed, the sail was conspicuously absent, as Link might have noticed, had he been more awake. "There will be space there."

Link gave him a sceptical glance, but pulled open the hold for the sail, and found that there was, at least a little, room for the giant orb. He shoved the orange orb in, wondering what the squiggly lines with the dot on the bottom meant as he did, and then putting it from his mind.

"It's been a long day, but we should keep going," Link said. "Let me know if there is anything you need me to do. Wake me if there is trouble."

The King of Red Lions considered explaining about the fishmen, co-descendants with the ritos of the people known as the zoras, but decided that it could wait. He considered mentioning that Link had been at Dragon Roost for over a day.

The only thing that he couldn't keep himself from saying—and this because it was integral to continuation of the quest—was that they needed to head south, and the wind was blowing east.

Link sighed, pulling out the Wind Waker baton, and, without fanfare, pointed his hand to the left, and the finger of his other hand upwards, and then to the left, and then to the right. Then, as if he were a natural compass, he turned to the south, and pointed straight ahead. A brief little tune, almost familiar, arose up on the wind, and the wind was now at Link's back. He lay down, and slept, and the mast rose from the sail compartment, and the sail strung across it, and off they went, heading south.


End file.
